Blood, Manna & Other Stories
by reverse-swing
Summary: "And the scream that's trapped in her mind, only seeks to confirm what she's known all along. It's always been her". Alex Vause is caught between the devil, the deep blue sea and something much worse. WWII Nazi AU. Espionage has never been so delicious.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Ok, so as it's a Nazi AU, some of you may wonder how we can have a main character with the last name 'Chapman'. Well, as it turns out, both the compound Chapman and its first element 'Chap' have origins in all the main Germanic languages. So there we are.**

 **As for Alex, well all will be revealed about her name later on in the story.**

 **Enjoy.**

The paperwork had been prepared quickly, efficiently and with a minimum amount of fuss. Alex chuckles at the irony of how very German the whole process seemed. Although she doubts the Americans would see the funny side somehow.

She's around five miles outside Munich she's guessing, although the driver isn't exactly forthcoming with details, merely grunting when she estimates their location. Once they arrive at their destination, he wordlessly hands her a manila envelope. It contains keys to the barrack type building that they've pulled up in front of. Nothing else. And the expression on her face must betray the confusion, because he sighs, in what Alex guesses is a conciliatory gesture and instructs her to let herself in and await further instruction. She swears he's about to smile, but then he stops himself, right on the cusp, thinking better of it, and pulling his small, slightly feminine looking mouth, into a thin lipped grimace instead. The gesture sets Alex further on edge.

She exits the vehicle and before she has the chance to change her mind, the black Mercedes is already screeching off into the distance, spraying shrapnel like gravel in its wake. And she's left looking up at the building she's been dumped in front of, Nazi flag fluttering lightly in the winter breeze, wondering if anywhere can feel less like home than _this._

…

The building reminds Alex of her elementary school, squat and imposing, although she doubts the inside is going to be decorated by colourful finger-paintings. Half the windows are boarded up and although she manages to unlock the front door easily enough, the heavy shoulder barge she has to give it, indicates that it hasn't been used for some time. And that's when the cold sweats begin.

What purpose would they have to bring her here, in a part derelict, ex army barracks on the outskirts of the Bavarian capital? _Defector_ her mind hisses. She squeezes her eyes shut, trying to rid herself of the thought, instead busying herself with her new surroundings, trying to choke back the smell of damp and the sensation of it settling on her face and clothes; an unwanted second skin.

She dumps her duffel bag on the bare mattress of a bottom bunk, the first one in a row of twenty that run parallel, on either side of the building. She gingerly takes a seat on the edge of it, as if she's afraid someone will pop up out of nowhere, like an uninvited jack in the box and then she's suddenly aware of the cold and how in her haste to pack, she's left her thick winter coat in New York City. 'Fucking Bavarian winters' she mumbles to herself.

Speaking English has become second nature to her now and more often than not, she finds herself _thinking_ in the learnt language too, favouring it over her mother tongue. She's pretty sure the Fuhrer would not approve. But she doubts he's gonna be inviting her to tea any time soon, so she doesn't give it too much further thought.

She shifts on the bed uncomfortably, feeling a sharp stabbing pain in the top of her right thigh. When she stands up to inspect, she realises that the source is a rusty, slightly uncoiled spring, _'_ son of a bitch' she says, rubbing the sore area.

She sits back down again, in a different spot, her body almost sighing in relief, the duration of the journey, seemingly catching up with her, all at once. She should sleep she thinks, but the bed isn't appealing and she has too many thoughts rattling around her mind to _truly_ rest. So instead, she removes a scarf from her bag, wraps it tightly around herself and her flimsy jacket and leans back against the wall, remembering the last letter she received from her mother. Blue air mail paper, clearly tampered with, emblazoned with the three words that Alex needed to see most: _Ich bin sicher._

 _I am safe._

...

She can smell cigarettes and Aniseed. Aniseed Liquor, as she's brusquely woken up by someone's hand shaking her shoulder. 'Auf deinen Füßen!' is what she thinks they are requesting, but a hazy cloud of sleep is still sitting heavily over her, so the words drift on the air, like the first snowflakes of winter. _My darling Munich_ she thinks, smiling to herself.

'Auf deinen Füßen!' They repeat, firmer this time, not waiting for her co-operation as they drag her to her feet. She removes her glasses and rubs at her eyes. When she replaces them, she's face to face with two archetype SS soldiers.

'Paperwork' the slightly taller of the two demands as she scrabbles around in her bag to retrieve the documentation. He glances over it and then looks back up at her. Alex cannot fathom whether it's in confusion or suspicion, she's not entirely sure which is more dangerous in this situation.

She's told to follow them, so she does, tailing them to the back of the building, through a set of doors and down a corridor until they reach a small kitchen. It smells of stale milk and even with a chill in the air, blue bottles mill around a particular patch on the floor, by the rusty fridge. Alex, shudders to think what was once lying there: _flesh…animal? Human?_

'Vause' an unfamiliar voice says. It lacks warmth, friendliness or any discernible emotion.

'Senior Assault Unit Leader Chapman' he says gruffly. He doesn't offer his hand, barely meets her gaze. He's medium height, medium build, middle aged, nothing to set the world on fire, but Alex guesses he's been mixing in the right circles, attending the appropriate dinners and nodding at the correct prompts. In other words, ideal SS leadership material.

'Alex Vause' she replies, although she guesses her already knows her full name and just about every other important detail associated with her. She's trying to keep her voice as even as possible, although her eyes are flitting over the gun nestled in his holster. He must have caught her out because he grins.

'Nothing for you to concern yourself with' he says laughing. Alex notices it doesn't quite reach his eyes. 'You're far too important to us for that'.

She can't help but feel the words _'for now'_ should grace the end of the sentence, but she offers him a small smile in return nonetheless.

'Hungry?' he continues. Alex wants to tell him the churning in her stomach is _definitely_ not hunger, that before she continues with any of this, agrees to anything more, she needs assurances about Diane, but if the last few years have taught her anything, it's that biding your time is more effective than knee jerk reactions. So she offers a non-committal shrug in response.

'Not a woman of many words eh? Makes a nice change I suppose, most of the women I know can't stop chattering on endlessly. At times, it makes me wish they had batteries that could be removed' he continues, much to the amusement of the two less senior officers, who immediately chuckle behind her.

Alex wonders if Unit Leader Chapman has always been such an asshole, or if he's learnt it over time. She's guessing the former, but doesn't necessarily rule out the latter. This regime can do strange things to people, turn your loving, friendly neighbor of twenty years into a snitch, have you hauled up in front of the firing squad for something innocuous. It's a dog eat dog existence for certain, except the animals are rabid and hungry for more. _Ich bin sicher,_ she reminds herself and remains silent.

'Anyway, I insist, you must eat, we need you to keep your strength up. My place isn't far from here, i'm told the cook has prepared Wiener Schnitzel and I took a delivery of our finest German beer this morning. I assume America hasn't sullied your taste buds?'

'Maybe they were already sullied?' she replies in spite of herself, a small smile playing at the corners her lips, but she bites it back quickly and Chapman merely shakes his head in confusion.

She follows him out to the car and slides into the back, behind the awaiting driver. The two junior officers don't join them. It's warm and comfortable and _how_ she wishes she could close her eyes and drift away, caught on a breeze like an autumnal leaf. But now her stomach is growling at the thought of the fried meat and she realises that she's much hungrier than she had let on.

The summer of 1936 is her last memory of eating Wiener Schnitzel. It was her Aunt's birthday. Her mother had cooked and they'd all got merry on cheap wine and danced giddily to Ella Fitzgerald (a black market purchase) until their calves burnt and their muscles ached and they landed in a heap on the floor, well and truly spent. They passed the rest of the evening sharing an Apfelstrudel, one fork between five of them, the icing sugar coating Diane's top lip until she finally realised what they were all laughing and pointing at, as she licked it off grumpily.

 _Memories,_ the only thing that have remained sacred during the state of emergency, the onset of war, and this, whatever _this_ is. And now her fatigue is giving way to something else; bitterness, because her good, simple life was snatched away from her virtually overnight and suddenly, she finds herself irrationally angry at SS leader Chapman. Her hands balled into tight fists at her sides and the adrenalin racing through her is making her feel more alert than she's been since she landed back on German terrain.

 _Ich bin sicher,_ her mind repeats and she curses under her own breath at this predicament, knowing there is no real way out. Not just _yet._

'You say something Vause?' Chapman asks.

'No' she lies, hunkering back down in her seat.

 _Patience._

…

She's been pulling slowly on her beer, keen not to become too inebriated, because she's still not entirely at ease.

SS leader Chapman's house is as expected for someone of such senior rank. Large, immaculately furnished and pristinely clean. The maid fusses around them when they arrive, bringing them drinks and snacks and shortly after, dinner is announced, but Chapman has not revealed the purpose of his meeting with Alex. He's keeping _those_ cards, very close to his chest.

The Schnitzel is delicious and Alex isn't sure whether that's down to her hunger or the skill of the chef, but either way, she gratefully accepts a second portion. She's almost done when Mrs Chapman arrives. Her husband introduces them briefly, explains he is working on an important project with Alex. The word _project_ makes Alex bristle involuntarily.

'Carol' she says, cold and flat, offering a perfectly manicured hand to Alex. She takes it. It's as icy as her stare. She pecks her husband on the cheek and excuses herself, she needs to try on some outfits for the cocktail party they are invited to this evening. _Hilda and Josef's place, I told you last night darling, remember? You said it would be great to catch up, you haven't seen Josef in an age._ But even speaking with her husband, her voice lacks warmth, like she's rehearsed the words, she's playing a part, one that she's not enjoying.

Chapman just nods and returns to his meal. 'See what I meant about the batteries?' He says, smirking, after a few minutes.

Alex doesn't have the heart to tell him that she doesn't think Carol Chapman ever had any.

She drains the remainder of her beer and excuses herself to the bathroom. It is, like everything else in the house, spacious and immaculately decorated, although Alex immediately assigns the choice of the gilded mirror over the sink to Carol Chapman: showy, but not tasteless. _We aren't new money._

She splashes her face with cold water, fighting the fresh wave of tiredness that is creeping over her, although she can't be sure it isn't just a boozy fug. She snatches a towel up from a pile next to the sink and pats herself dry, so lost in thought about Chapman's next move, that she doesn't notice the young blonde woman she eventually goes crashing straight into, as she exits back into the hallway.

'Fuck' she mumbles, straightening herself out, her own eyes locking with a pair of vivid blue, 'I'm so sorry'.

The blonde shakes her head, as if to say it's ok, but her eyes fail to leave Alex's, almost as if they're incapable of doing so.

'Ah there you are' Chapman interrupts, 'I see you've met my daughter Piper, but anyhow, we have more pressing matters, there's a phone call for you from Munich…you need to come with me now, it's _urgent'_

And just like that, everything else, suddenly becomes white noise.

…

 **A/N: Many thanks to imissedyourpatronage, I'm pretty sure I've bored her endlessly about this for the last few days and her encouragement is always never ending. Cheers dude.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you to the guest from Austria who commented on some discrepancies in the German I used in chapter one. My German is basic, at best, so please excuse any mistakes and thank you for your feedback.**

 **Once again, thanks to imissedyourpatronage, she really is being a solid pal for me with this story.**

 **Enjoy.**

Alex replaces the receiver clumsily, praying that the hammering in her heart will abate. She's been called to a meeting in Munich tomorrow morning, with the Reich Ministry of Public Enlightenment and Propaganda. A junior, called Huber, will be overseeing proceedings. However, the mystery man advises her, for tonight she's to remain at the Chapman residence.

'Everything ok?' Bill Chapman ( _please call me Bill whilst you're a guest in my home)_ asks her. Alex is pretty certain the question is moot, someone as senior as Bill must have known about this before he'd even arrived to collect her at the barracks. She simply nods coolly in response.

'I've been told I'll be spending the night _here'_ she says, taking the glass of red wine that her host passes to her, neither of them acknowledging the slight jitteriness of her hand as she takes it. 'If it's no trouble', she adds quickly.

'I wouldn't have it any other way' he replies, taking a deep sip of the booze, regarding her closely over the rim of the glass. The comment fails to put Alex at ease, she isn't staying with friends after all, this is part of the assignment, Bill knows it and she knows it. So for now, they'll both keep playing the game, biding their time until the moment is right.

They return to the dining table and Alex is surprised to note Piper has joined them. They're served fruit, cheese and very dark rye bread, but Alex's hunger left her a while ago, her stomach full with fried meat, so instead, she gratefully accepts refill after refill of the wine, snatching glances at the Chapman daughter when it's safe enough, when she thinks Bill's distracted enough by the food, or the sound of his own voice. He seems especially keen on the latter.

Alex notes that the blonde is eating very little, instead taking small divots out of a slice of bread and rolling them between her thumb and forefinger and there's something infinitely captivating about the way her long, slender fingers ply the food so tenderly, that it's about a minute or so before Alex realises that she's been caught staring, but instead of becoming uncomfortable, Piper shoots her a smile and the warmth of it immediately sets something fluttering within the pit of Alex's stomach. She quickly averts her gaze and puts it down to too much wine and not enough _real_ human contact for nearly half a decade.

'Calvin not coming down for dinner?' Bill asks his daughter.

'Well do you see him?' she replies, gesturing at the empty chairs around the table and Alex finds herself smiling in spite of herself. Evidently, this Aryan girl has a little _bite._

'It was a simple question' Bill says, his voice hard. 'Perhaps if you set him a better example, then he wouldn't behave the way he does.'

'Yes, Cal getting thrown out of Hitlerjugend was _all_ my fault' she scoffs.

'He's been reinstated as of Monday, but if it wasn't for my position, then….'

'Then he'd be free to have a mind of his own?' she continues, averting her gaze to the plate and stabbing a piece of cheese with a fork. The prongs make a raw screeching sound across the porcelain, immediately making Alex wince.

'Just finish your food' Bill snaps, taking a large bite out of a cherry. Crimson juice bleeds out and trickles down his fingers, settling under his fingernails in ruby crests.

'I'm done' she replies, tossing a napkin on top of her plate.

She's about to excuse herself from the table when Carol Chapman re-enters the room. She glances over at Alex, not even bothering with a perfunctory smile this time and advises her daughter to get ready for the cocktail party.

Piper shakes her head, Carol scowls. Piper turns to leave, Carol attempts to reason. _Eligible SS guards, an opportunity a young woman of Piper's standing should embrace. The Bauer's are going to be there with their daughter, eyebrows will be raised if the Chapman's do not turn up with their own._ Piper mumbles something about Danny the golden child and how it's a shame he's away so they can't go back to doting on him and ignoring her. Carol throws her hands in the air in exasperation, looking accusatorily at her husband as if it's his fault somehow.

'Leave her' Bill says, rising up from his seat, 'if she's going to turn up with _that_ sour look on her face, nobody will come within fifteen feet of her anyway. She can look after our guest instead, saves me having to ask Hans'.

'Oh no really, I'll be fine, I'll…' Alex begins.

'I insist' comes the firm reply and Alex quickly realises that Bill isn't doing her any favours, he's clearly been instructed to keep an eye on her as part of the assignment, so she leaves her sentence unfinished. It would not be to her benefit to rock the boat now, especially as she has no idea of what tomorrow's meeting will hold. The thought sends a panic to rise within her. She attempts to quell it, by swallowing down the final dregs of her wine.

'Yes so it's settled, I'll keep…' Piper's eyes flick to their guest.

'….Alex….' the brunette replies smiling.

'Alex-' the blonde repeats, so softly, it's barely audible, 'company'.

And then the room is silent again, thick with Carol's disappointment and anger. But Alex isn't interested in that, because an evening with Piper Chapman, sounds like the best thing she's heard in a good while.

She takes a bite of strawberry, the sweet juice dancing across her tongue and she finds herself smiling, because for the first time since she's returned, she genuinely feels like she might have a reason to.

…

The Chapman daughter could not be any further in temperament from either of her parents. She simultaneously lacks both the air of bravado of her father and the impenetrable icy exterior of her mother. She opens a drinks cabinet and pulls out a bottle of liquor, declaring that they both deserve to get a little drunk tonight and pours them both sturdy measures. She hands a tumbler to Alex, allowing their fingers to brush lightly as she does so, eyes dancing with mischief. Alex smiles back awkwardly, hoping she's wrong about the girl's intentions. Maybe. Delighting in the fact that she probably isn't. Definitely.

'So what's your story?' Piper asks, as she takes a seat on the couch next to the guest, tucking her legs underneath herself.

'What story would you like me to have?'

'I'm not sure, but why don't you start by telling me what you and Papa are working on?'

Alex laughs, she's bolshie enough, she's seen plenty of evidence of that this evening, but she's always been told that walls have ears and in the Third Reich, she's pretty certain that they have eyes and tape recorders too, so she remains silent, instead, swirling the amber remnants in the bottom of her glass; liquid gold.

'Not a fan of sharing huh?'

Alex shrugs.

'You know Alex, I _really_ don't bite'. She enunciates the final word with a delicious rasp and before Alex has a chance to reply, the girl has tossed her head back and is laughing in the most carefree infectious manner that momentarily, it takes Alex aback. She decides it would be safer to change the subject.

'So why were you so against going to this party?'

Immediately the girl's mood shifts. 'Ugh. You never been to one of _those_ functions before? Full of uptight, SS clones. They bore me.'

'Why?'

'They haven't lived, they don't know about art or literature or music...anything about the world….and what's worse is they don't _want_ to learn'. And she says these things so passionately, with such raw longing, that Alex notices

her right hand has curled firmly into a fist.

'It's a little hard to learn about the world when there's a ban on pretty much anything that isn't pro Nazi' Alex replies matter of factly.

And then that smile is back, playful, but with a little edge. 'Come with me, I'll show you something' Piper says, tugging her hand. The touch sends something rippling through Alex that she hurriedly pushes to the back of her mind and before she knows it, she's up on her feet and being led up a set of stairs. The doors are closed to most of the rooms they pass, except for one, left slightly ajar, the Nazi flag hung over the bed.

'That's Danny's room' Piper says, 'he's away on training, in line for some important promotion or something. Personally, I hope he stays away, then I don't have to endure my mother fawning over him'.

And Alex is learning pretty quickly, that Danny Chapman is probably someone she needs to be very weary of.

They carry on up a second staircase until they're stood outside the door to Piper's room. Piper places a hand on the doorknob, Alex close behind her and suddenly she spins round on her heel, so quickly she almost knocks Alex's drink out of her hand. And now blue eyes are locked with hers, their mouths mere inches apart.

'Can you keep a secret Alex?' she asks, a grin playing at the corners of her mouth.

'Depends on if it's one worth keeping' Alex replies, ignoring the desperate pull of wanting to feel Piper Chapman's lips against hers.

She doesn't reply, just turns wordlessly and let's them both into her room, flicking on the lamp sat on the nightstand, so part of the room remains shadowed, cloaked off from the world, whilst the other basks in an almost ethereal glow.

Her bedroom is standard issue: neat and tidy, bed nicely made, a bureau with a notepad and pen on it, but unlike Danny's room, a distinct lack of Nazi regalia. Piper Chapman the perfect Aryan daughter: except for when she's not, a delightful contradiction, but Alex knows full well, she's dangerous all the same. Before she has the chance to dwell on the thought any further, Piper is tugging her bed away from the wall. Alex places her glass on the nightstand to lend a hand.

'You want to tell me what we're doing?' Alex asks, a little bemused.

'Die besten Sachen kommen zu denen, die warten' Piper replies a little breathlessly.

Alex laughs, patience is all she's been learning over the last few years, it seems all the rage.

Once the bed has been removed, Piper's crouching on the floor, removing a piece of skirting panel, her hand reaching into the hollow behind it. 'Last time I did this, a spider crawled up my arm, I screamed so loudly Danny came to ask if I was ok, I couldn't shoo him out of the room quick enough, I'd take the spider over Danny finding _this_ any time'.

She pulls out a small, dusty box. Alex peers inside and finds a choice collection of black market books. She rifles through them; Hemingway and Kafka are the first that her eyes land on.

'Piper, you know if you get caught then…'

'Then what? Even if I did, because of papa, nothing would ever happen to me….well except I'd go back to being bored out of my skull, watching Alles Leben ist Kampf for the fiftieth time or having Darwin shoved down my throat _again._ I want to explore, I want to learn about what's out _there'._

She says _there_ like it's some paradise out of her reach. Alex doesn't have the heart to tell her that _there_ can be a pretty cruel place too.

'I just don't want to be imprisoned in a world created _for_ me. You understand that right?' Her eyes are glassy with emotion, shimmering in the dim light.

Alex drops the books back in the box, 'Yea I get it' she replies, not looking up.

'You wanna borrow one?' Piper asks.

Alex laughs 'thanks kid, but I have a meeting in Munich tomorrow morning and if I get caught with one of these on my person, I'm pretty sure that it's not going to end well, after all, Bill Chapman isn't _my_ father'. She smiles politely. 'I really should get some rest, I have to be up early tomorrow, I presume I'll be staying in a guest room?'

Piper nods despondently. 'Hey, you want to read some?' she says, pointing at the box.

'Right now?' Alex asks a little incredulous.

'Sure, why not?'

'What if the maid hears?'

'She won't know what it is' Piper laughs.

'I guess..'

'Come on Alex, where's your spirit?'

'I think I drunk most of it' she says, pointing to her largely empty tumbler on the nightstand.

'Here' Piper says, handing her a copy of 'The Metamorphosis' you start. She positions herself on the bed, propping herself up with pillows to get more comfortable. Alex takes a seat at the bureau.

'Well someone _will_ catch us if you're yelling all the way from over there' Piper says rolling her eyes, 'come sit'. She pats the space next to her and Alex obliges.

She's a few pages in when Piper interrupts her. 'Hey' she says softly.

'Yea?'

'You have nice reading voice. I like it.'

'So let me read' Alex replies, failing to meet her gaze, not trusting herself to do so and Piper nods obligingly.

…

She doesn't really remember what happens next, only that she's waking up a little stiff and awkward, the Chapman girl nestled into her side, the book discarded on the floor. She gently removes herself from the bed, replaces the books in their hiding place and checks the time. It's 5am. She glances out of the window at the light frost twinkling on the rooftops, trying to dull the pang in her heart for freedom, for _home._

…


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: This one's for 'Rufus'. Cheers dude.**

 **Enjoy.**

Alex is two cups of coffee down and in desperate need of a cigarette, before Bill Chapman joins her for breakfast. There's a horrible stillness to the room, as dawn morphs into early morning, only occasionally broken by the clacking of Bill Chapman's mouth as he tucks into his breakfast with relish. He enquires about her evening, tells her that he hopes Piper wasn't too distracting. She gives him a bland response, trying to keep the tone of her voice as even as possible, but she doubts he's even listening. The minutiae of Alex's life is not what he's interested in, she is certain of that.

'Nervous about the meeting?' he asks, helping himself to bread and honey.

Alex shrugs. Nervous is the wrong word. Scared is probably more accurate.

 _Defector_.

She gulps down more coffee, trying to push the thought away.

'Well you have no reason to be, I'm sure your information is going to be very useful' he says smiling, in a way that fails to relax her, even slightly.

Alex nods politely, clamping a hand on her knee, forcing her leg to stop bouncing up and down, trying to focus her energy elsewhere; on a plate, on a cup.

 _Piper._

The proximity of her lips to Alex's as they had stood in the doorway to her bedroom, her gentle breaths, as she slept, tucked into Alex's side as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And for a second, she's concerned that the expression on her face must betray her, as Bill shoots her a curious look. But then he's quickly returning to his breakfast, so she hurriedly recomposes herself, drinks more coffee and tries to engage Bill in some light conversation instead.

She asks about the party. Bill grimaces. Carol had been a little worse for wear, too much liquor, not enough food, 'more than likely why she hasn't joined us for breakfast, sleeping it off no doubt. Still, the host is a good-natured chap and there was no harm done. He's seen it all before' he says, tossing his cutlery down with a clatter and pushing his plate away.

Carol Chapman, party animal. The thought makes Alex smile, maybe there is more to her than the icy exterior after all.

'That's the problem with women, they can be a law unto themselves on occasion. This is why I keep telling Carol she needs to take a firmer hand with Piper. The Third Reich is no place for a woman with a loose tongue and ideas above her station. I'm sure _you_ understand that'. And then that smile is back, reptilian, insincere and now Alex can feel a rage pulsing through her, because it's obvious he _knows,_ has done since he collected her from the barracks. The thought makes her feel so gut wrenchingly helpless that she wants to punch something, but she excuses herself instead, says she needs to make sure she's packed everything and makes her way up to the guest room she didn't sleep in.

She's sitting on the edge of the bed, taking deep lungful's of air, trying to calm herself, drown out thoughts of how good it would be to feel the crunch of Bill Chapman's nose under the good, firm contact of her fist.

She's always been a decent fighter; scrapper, had to be, because being poor always afforded some jibes and being fatherless, worse still. So she can throw a punch, solid and true. And right now, she's never wanted to hurt anyone more.

'Hey'

She looks up, Piper is stood in the doorway in a crumpled nightshirt and messily braided hair, still blinking the remnants of sleep from her eyes and Alex can feel her anger dissipating, giving way to something else, something more powerful.

'Hey'

'I'm glad, you haven't left, I just wanted to wish you good luck for your meeting'

'Thanks' Alex replies, not knowing what else to say, what would be considered appropriate in this situation.

'I had fun last night. You're not so bad for someone so…'

'So?'

'Brooding and mysterious'

A light chuckle escapes Alex's lips. 'Well believe me kid, neither of those things are intentional. I'd better get going' she says, snatching up her duffle bag and jacket from the bed.

'Wait a second' Piper replies. She disappears for a few minutes before returning with a long, dark wool coat. 'In case you hadn't noticed, it _is_ winter and that jacket isn't going to do much good.'

'Well that's very sweet of you but I don't know when I'd be able to return it'

'Es ist ein Geschenk'

'I've never been very good at accepting gifts'

'Well then, consider it a thank you instead, for last night. It's the first time I've felt like I've been able to share anything _real_ with anyone for a long time.'

'Ok. Well thanks' she says taking the coat and slinging the bag over her shoulder. 'Um…take care…'. And suddenly her legs feel leaden, as if she's rooted to the spot, because this could be the last time she sees this girl and she's not sure she's ready to take _that_ hit. But the situation is futile, that much she _does_ know. So she brushes past her in the doorway, stepping out into the landing, ignoring the hammering of her heart.

'Wait, Alex'

She stops dead in her tracks and doesn't even realise she's smiling.

She turns to face her. 'Yea?'

'Look, I don't know what your plans are for the rest of the day….after the meeting I mean…and I don't know if you'd want to, but….me and some friends are going to be over at Café Heck, in Ludwigstraße, you know it?'

'Yea, I know it'

'So we should be there lunchtime, around 1pm….if you want to drop by, for coffee….or something…'

There's a pause as Alex mulls it over. She knows what her reply should be, an absolute categorical no. But Piper's teeth are nervously tugging on her bottom lip, her eyes fixed on Alex's face, and there's something about the raw vulnerability of it all that makes it impossible for Alex to say anything other than 'Sure'.

'Really?' Piper replies, her voice suddenly animated.

'I mean yea….I need to find out what this _something_ is' she grins.

And then the moment comes un-stuck, because Bill is standing at the bottom of the staircase, advising her the car has arrived. 'Ludwigstraße' she whispers to Piper as she turns to leave, not even sure if she'll make it.

…

The office is grand. All leather chairs and mahogany wood. Nazi flag hung proudly behind the desk. But it's clinical, not a thing out of place. Not a sheet of paper, not a single pen and it creates a presiding eeriness that's making Alex wish she had remained in New York City and simply gone AWOL.

 _Ich bin sicher._

She sighs at the thought. Knotting and then unknotting her fingers, tapping her foot to an imaginary beat and wishing she'd snuck off into the Chapman's backyard and had a cigarette. America has only fuelled _that_ habit further.

And then the door creeks open and she's greeted by a man, who can't be much older than herself, maybe 25? He's short, in a dark suit and tie, with jet-black hair, neatly slicked back, a stark contrast to the greyish blue of his eyes. He has a brown paper file tucked under his arm. 'Miss Vause' he says, with a curt smile and a small nod, 'I'm Heidrich Huber, I oversee part of the counter-propaganda department here at the ministry.'

'Okay' Alex replies, not sure what else she can say.

He takes a seat behind the large desk, looking positively childlike in comparison and the image is so ridiculous, that Alex has to bite back a smile.

'I trust your journey here was agreeable?'

Alex nods.

He lays the file out on the desk, opens it and fans out the papers, eyes scanning each sheet until they land upon the one that he requires. He pulls it out. Alex can see a passport-sized picture of herself paper clipped to the corner. She leans forward in her chair slightly, trying to make out any further information, but quick as a flash, he returns the sheet back to the folder and his eyes flick back up to regard her.

'The mission was good I hear… _lucrative_ '

'I think so' Alex replies, realising for the first time how dry her throat feels.

'Excellent, so you will have much to tell us no doubt'

'Some things, yes'

'Come now Miss Vause, don't sell yourself short, from what I hear, you are quite the dab hand at smoke and mirrors….quite the expert at espionage'

He says it like it's some sort of game, as if she's a character in some two-bit crime thriller and not a person that has _other_ people making decisions for her. Not a person whose life hangs by a frayed thread.

'What is it you need to know?' Alex says, her frustration threatening to spill over.

' _Everything'_ He says, his eyes narrowed, lips pulled into a sardonic smirk. The juxtaposition against his otherwise youthful demeanor, is almost freakish and Alex can feel herself shuddering involuntarily. She tells herself it's the cold, even though she's pretty certain it isn't.

'Everything?'

'Absolutely. But all in good time'. He glances down at his watch. 'I have a meeting in fifteen minutes, but, we've arranged for your lodgings here.' He pulls out a piece of paper from the inside pocket of his suit jacket. Alex unfolds, it has a Munich address scribbled across it. She recognizes the street name, it's central and she doesn't know why, but that pleases her.

'Frau Ziegler is your landlady. She's a widow, her husband was tragically killed in the first world war. As long as you're home by curfew and don't give her any cause for concern, she'll be very agreeable'.

Alex nods silently, allowing the information to sink in.

'Every Monday, we'll deposit some funds into _this_ account for you.' He says, handing her a small grey bankbook. 'It is yours to do with as you wish, in line with the rules and regulations of the Third Reich of course'. He pauses 'We'll be in contact again soon, regarding the next meeting. In the meantime, I would suggest you take some time out to ensure you remember _all_ the pertinent information from your trip to the United States, I would hate to think there was a chance you may overlook something'.

Alex swallows hard. Does he know? Do _they_ know? She can feel the muscle in her jaw pulsing as she weighs it all up, reassuring herself that if they did, she would most likely be dead right now, not being given the address of some house frau, mourning her war hero husband. This meeting was clearly just a warning. They're watching her and they want her to know it.

'Frau Ziegler will be expecting you this evening. So if there are no further questions, we'll be in touch soon' he says, closing the file abruptly and sliding out of his seat.

'Wait' she says hurriedly, because she can't contain it any longer. 'My mother, Diane, when I can I see her?'

He holds her gaze for a few seconds, cold, impenetrable. 'Like I said Miss Vause, we'll be in touch shortly. Enjoy the rest of your day'. He's gone before Alex can form any further words, she glances down at the floor, noticing the passport picture of herself she had spotted earlier. She picks it up and flips it over, revealing two words in blue scrawl.

 _Flight risk._

…

She eats lunch at a place she remembers from her school days; it's kind of worn, the tables a little sticky, the chairs a little rickety, but it's warm and the food is decent. She orders garlic sausage, rye bread and pickles, chasing the food down with a small amount of local beer. Bill Chapman was right about one thing, American beer can't come close to this locally brewed stuff.

She snatches up a discarded paper from the table next to her. Failing to suppress an eye roll when she sees a picture of the Fuhrer petting a doe. 'Lover of fucking animals, of course', she mutters under her breath, before tossing it back onto the vacated table. She glances down at her watch, it's 2.30pm. 'Shit' she hisses, remembering her promise to meet Piper. The thought that she might be too late actually makes her heart sink a little, although she doesn't care to evaluate why. She tosses some bills on the table, grabs her bag and makes the ten-minute walk to Ludwigstraße in half the time.

By the time she arrives, her cheeks are flushed and her chest feels tight, but when the blonde spots her and waves her over, she suddenly feels remarkably ok. She's sat outside the café alone, a sketchpad and pencil set down in front of her.

'Hey, you're still here' Alex says, taking a seat next to her. 'Your friends?'

'They had to get back, I didn't think you were going to show…but I'm glad you did' she smiles.

Alex immediately feels something warm fluttering inside her stomach. She ignores it, looking at Piper's sketch instead. It's of the church across the street and Alex cannot believe how remarkably detailed it is. 'You're really good' she says, pointing to the piece of paper.

Piper shrugs, 'Daddy says I shouldn't waste my time with this 'nonsense' doesn't think it will get me anywhere'

And just like that, Piper hands her yet _another_ reason to dislike Bill Chapman. She realises that the list is growing by the day. 'Well, _i'm_ telling you it's really good. What else do you draw?'

'Mainly buildings, some scenery….sometimes people….rarely though, they have to really capture my imagination for me to draw them'.

'Well, let's hope you find your muse soon'

Piper doesn't reply, just smiles in response.

They order coffee and Piper talks about her plans to leave Germany, how she's been saving up money from birthday's and Christmas for the air fair to London.

'Why London?' Alex asks as she takes a sip of her now tepid drink.

'I've just always been really intrigued by it. The history, the freedom…..'

Alex laughs. 'It's a nice theory kid, but you're going to need more than the air fare to survive over there, contrary to what Dick Whittington would have you believe, the streets aren't all paved with gold.'

'I know that' Piper replies a little sullen, 'I just….well it's nice to dream isn't it?'

She leans in a little and Alex is sure she can feel the blonde's knee brushing up against her own. The contact causes something to splinter and spark within her, the sensation is so palpable, she almost has to jerk away.

'Are you alright?' Piper asks a little confused.

'Um yes, fine' Alex replies, suddenly feeling incredibly foolish and hoping that no one else has spotted them. 'Anyway, I have to go, I need to check out my new lodgings' she says, gathering her things.

'Oh, are they in Munich?'

Alex nods, 'Few streets away from here'.

'You going to invite me round for tea?' Piper says grinning.

Alex laughs, as she slides off her chair to stand up, 'I'll see you around some time' she says turning to leave.

'Hold on, don't you want to know what the _something_ was I mentioned earlier?' Piper says, a little louder than she had intended.

Alex raises her eyebrow, 'I think I have fair idea'

'Yea?'

'Yes. Goodbye trouble' she smiles.

'I'll look forward to my invitation' Piper throws after her.

'Maybe' Alex replies. Definitely, her mind confirms.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Um…um…um…sorry about the delay in this chapter, sometimes I have to attend to real life, grown up stuff….like topiary….**

 **Enjoy.**

The room is draughty, the walls bare and the exposed floorboards beneath her create a hollow echo around the room, each step reverberating eerily, almost as if it's tailing her. She wanders over to the small window, eyes flicking to the top left corner and the fractures in the plaster: an intricate network of veins, allowing the winter chill to seep through. But the view is nice, out across the deserted park. And then a seesaw gently kicks into life, caught in a gust of icy wind, bobbing rhythmically, before the breeze is dulled and stillness presides once more.

Alex wraps her arms around herself, suddenly grateful of the borrowed coat she is wearing and wonders if she can survive a whole winter of sleeping in this room. She glances across to the bedding, it's perfunctory, like everything else in Frau Ziegler's home. An extra blanket would no doubt seem like needless frippery to her.

And then her mind flicks back to the photograph she'd spotted on the mantelpiece of the living room, of a young man in military uniform, barely into his twenties. His complexion so fresh faced, it bore an almost feminine quality.

'My late husband' Frau Ziegler had advised.

'I'm sorry about your loss' Alex mumbled in response, not knowing what else to say. And then her host had handed her a cup of tea, explaining that the pain was bearable, because his death was noble and nothing could be more worthwhile than dying in the throes of battle for your country. A legitimate war ending in an illegitimate treaty she insists fervently, so much so that the apples of her cheeks begin to redden and tiny balls of spittle form in the corners of the her mouth.

So Alex changes the subject, enquires about Frau Ziegler's daily routine, which unsurprisingly, sounds painfully regimented. 'Curfew is at 9pm, there is to be _no_ exception to this, unless _I_ have received prior consent from the relevant authorities'. Alex doesn't need to delve further to know exactly whom she is referring to. The thought makes her gut churn, because she's inherited an unwanted shadow and it would be dangerous to forget that.

'There are to be strictly no gentleman callers' she continues, stirring milk into her own drink, 'I will not tolerate _that_ under my roof'.

Alex can feel her mouth being tugged into an involuntary smile and it clearly throws the Frau off kilter for a few seconds, as her brow furrows in confusion, further hardening the lines of her face. She runs a hand over her neatly pinned bun and recomposes herself, her voice firmer this time. 'I mean what I say Fraulein Vause, rule breaking will not be tolerated'.

'Absolutely' Alex replies, her face almost comically serious now, 'so rest assured, you have my word, that I will not be bringing back _any_ men under _any_ circumstance'.

Even now, lying on the unforgiving solidness of the mattress, the conversation is still amusing and momentarily, she can forget the hardship of her life and the respite is so welcome, she allows her mind to drift a little more, until it catches on something else; Piper Chapman's smile. And then it floats a little further, resting on the blue of her eyes and how Alex cannot quite place the exact colour, only that when they shimmer, they seem to call to something within her…something insatiable….something…. _dangerous._

But the thoughts provide her with a much needed warmth, a sustenance of sorts, so she revels in the distraction a small while longer, imagining her lips gently grazing the peachy flesh of the blonde's neck, her fingertips lingering along the delicate curve of her hips, laying a trail along the honeyed softness of her inner thigh, so much so that she almost doesn't hear the firm knock on the door. And then she's snapped back to reality in the most inconvenient of ways, as Frau Ziegler is standing at the foot of the bed, handing her a recently delivered telegram.

Alex's eyes glance over it hurriedly, a small beacon of hope quickly dashed when she realises it's nothing to do with her mother. Instead it's from Bill Chapman, inviting her to an early dinner. And just like that, Alex has lost her appetite.

…

The pork chops are dry and the sauerkraut is too acidic, so Alex pushes the food around the plate, trying not to allow her mind to wander, to question the motives of Bill Chapman's last minute dinner invitation.

It's just the two of them, sat at either end of the large dining table. Carol has taken Piper shopping for new clothes and Calvin is at training she's informed, so the chance of respite is slim. Although if she's being honest, it's probably a good idea that she doesn't see the Chapman girl again, at least not for a little while.

'How are you finding your new landlady?' Bill asks, finally breaking the thick silence that has blanketed them.

'She seems nice' Alex says, briefly looking up from the greasy meat. She stabs a fork through the fatty rind, trying to think of something more convincing to say. 'Her husband must have been very young when he died?'

Bill shrugs, 'it happens, one of the pitfalls of war, someone has to take the hit'. Alex guesses that _that_ someone _,_ will never be Bill Chapman. She watches him help himself to more pork and cabbage, taking generous swigs of beer to wash it down, glancing up to regard her now and again, as if he's making sure she's still there, paying attention; playing the _game._

'So what do you do in you recreation time now that you're back in Munich?' Bill asks, when he's finally decided he's finished with his food. He leans back in his chair and scratches his head, watching Alex closely for a response.

'I've not had a lot of free time' she replies honestly. Her brain has barely switched off since she returned to German soil and she's pretty certain she's still jet lagged, so leisure activities have been the least of her concerns.

'You've no friends, no family in Munich that you've been to visit?'

The question throws Alex, because surely Bill would know that the only family she has left here is her mother. Her Aunt moved to France with her new husband a couple of years ago. As for friends, well she's never cared for them much, never trusted anyone enough to classify them as more than an acquaintance and in many ways, that's why the assignment in America suited he so well.

 _Keep yourself to yourself Vause._

In reality, she doesn't know any other way of living. So she shakes her head in response, a growing unease blooming within her. Just why is she here?

'I'm just thinking, you should _try_ and blend in a little, it would begin to look suspicious if you were _always_ seen alone, people would begin to talk….and in the Third Reich, you and I both know, talk is dangerous'. He smiles and drains his glass dry.

'It's nice that you're concerned about my welfare' Alex replies, not bothering to soften her tone and she knows she sounds like an asshole, that it's snippy and salty, but his latest tactics have thrown her mind into a spin and the frustration is making her blood pound and her palms sweat. She pushes her plate away and takes a sip of beer. It's too malty, a new brewer, Bill tells her, but she gulps it down all the same, awaiting his next move.

But the fresh silence is short lived, because Carol comes bustling in, Piper tailing behind her, a shopping bag bumping against the side of her leg, a presiding glumness set firm on her face. And then she stops dead, spotting Alex and suddenly, her expression is transformed, as her features brighten and her steps quicken towards the brunette and for a moment, Alex is concerned that she's going to do something irresponsible and carefree and throw her arms around her. The thought both thrills and scares her in equal measure.

'Du bist zurück!' she says, rather more animatedly than is sensible.

'Yes, I'm back' Alex replies, as flatly as she can muster 'your father kindly invited me to dinner'.

'Dry pork chops papa?' Piper says glancing down at Alex's plate in disgust, 'is this any way to treat a guest?'

'Alex, can you believe how fussy my daughter is? We should be grateful for what we have, especially in times of war, do you not agree?'

Alex opens her mouth to respond, but Piper beats her to it. 'Nonsense, that's no excuse for feeding her _this_. Luckily, mother and I picked up a sachertorte from the Viennese bakery on the square, you will stay for a slice won't you Alex?' she says, eyes hopeful.

'I um…' Alex glances down at her watch, she still has two hours to curfew, but she knows being around Piper is a bad idea, a _really_ bad idea. But Bill is already one step ahead of her.

'Of course she'll stay, I'll not hear otherwise' he proclaims, sliding out of his seat with a smile. 'Now I have a call to make, send my dessert through to the study' he says in the general direction of his wife. 'The driver is outside whenever you're ready to leave Alex. And don't worry, I'll be in touch again soon'.

Alex can't shake the feeling that it sounds like a threat.

…

Carol has excused herself to bed with a migraine and Alex doesn't have the appetite for cake, not when Piper has chosen to squeeze herself next to her on the couch, ignoring the numerous other empty seats dotted around the room.

'You don't like sachertorte?' she asks, noticing Alex's helping is largely untouched. 'You don't have a sweet tooth?'

'I like _some_ sweet things, yes' Alex replies smiling.

Piper reaches over to Alex's plate, using her forefinger to scoop up some chocolate frosting. She licks it off with long, languid strokes of her tongue, her eyes gently fluttering closed as she does so. 'Mmmmm, I have no idea how you can resist _this_ ' she murmurs and Alex isn't entirely sure she's still talking about the cake. Her eyes dart to the doorway, desperate to ensure that neither Bill nor Carol spot them.

'So what did you buy from the store' she asks, keen to change the tone of the mood that has settled, trying to drown out the sound of Piper Chapman's moans of pleasure and the sweet scent of her skin which is currently flooding her consciousness.

The blonde opens her eyes. 'Just some winter clothes for my trip to Berchtesgaden…you ever been?'

'No, but I've heard it's beautiful'

'Oh it really is' she says, setting her plate down next to her and shifting in her seat slightly. 'My father has arranged the trip for me and my friends, the views from our hotel are unrivalled, it's the same place we stayed when I went last year, except this time, we've been granted access to the Kehlsteinhaus. The vistas from there are going to be breathtaking'

'I'm sure you'll have a great time kid' Alex says, forcing a smile, knowing that the thought of the blonde being miles away shouldn't be making her feel despondent, because this girl is nothing to her, _nothing_ at all.

'Why don't you come?' she says, eyes suddenly wide with excitement.

'I can't…' Alex begins, although she doesn't think it's a good idea to vocalize the exact reason why it wouldn't be appropriate.

'Why? What else do you have to do apart from wander the streets of Munich with that signature scowl of yours?'

'Hey…I don't scowl…' she replies with mock indignation.

'Scowly' Piper teases, grinning.

Alex glances down at her watch. It's 8.30pm, time is getting away from her and the situation is quickly slipping out of safe territory. 'Look, I'd better go, Frau Ziegler has a curfew'

Piper rolls her eyes, 'god, that sounds worse than living _here_ and I didn't think anything could be _that_ bad'.

'Exactly, so be grateful of small mercies' Alex replies, placing her plate on the end table, as Piper leans over, her lips perilously close to the brunette's cheek.

 _Come to Berchtesgaden_

Her breath is hot and moist and Alex can feel her own fingernails digging into the upholstery of the couch.

 _Please_

Her voice is dripping with temptation, with promise, with something that Alex has been trying to ignore since the day that they collided. And so she knows there can only be one answer she's capable of right now. The rest is futile.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: More adult things have kept me busy this week, like origami. So here's a haiku for you based around that and dedicated to my good friend and fellow origami enthusiast, 'imissedyourpatronage'.**

 **Paper folds**

 **Hiding within themselves**

 **A crease in time**

 **Saves a tear**

 **Enjoy the chapter.**

The church spire stretches out to meet the electric pink horizon, as dark clouds prowl the periphery of the late evening sky: a storm is brewing.

Piper pointedly ignores the scowl on her friend's face, gripping the ticket in her hand a little tighter, holding on to hope slightly firmer, feeling her heart beat a little faster. But there's no denying it, Alex is nowhere to be seen and no amount of wishing can change that.

Around them crowds swarm along the platform, goodbyes and best wishes tossed in the air like confetti at a wedding, as fat, purposeful raindrops begin to pelt them on the cold, wooden bench.

'She's not coming Piper' Polly says gathering her belongings, 'we really need to start boarding, the train's leaving in five minutes and I'm pretty sure Greta's already on there'.

Piper nods silently, suddenly feeling overwhelmingly exhausted, limbs leaden, heart heavier still, because she was wrong; about all of it. The thought makes her feel nauseous, as her late afternoon hot chocolate swirls in the pit of her stomach, viscous and sickly. She snatches up the bag from beside her and turns to follow her friend.

'Hey kid, not planning on skipping town without me, were you?'

Piper spins around so quickly, that for a second everything is a blur and then there she is, in glorious sharp focus: Alex.

'You made it?' she says, suddenly feeling a little breathless, words tumbling from her mouth in unbridled joy.

'Well yea' she laughs and Piper swears she's never heard anything sound so sweet, in her whole life.

They tail along after Polly, who in her haste hasn't even noticed the arrival of the brunette and it's not until they begin piling on to the carriage in a messy heap of holdalls and documents, that she suddenly realises their party has increased by one. She stares blankly at Alex, managing to formulate nothing more than a flat 'oh'.

'Pol, this is Alex' Piper says, as if she's showing off some shiny new gift.

'Hey' Alex says smiling. But it's different to the way she smiles at Piper, it lacks luster and depth, she's simply fulfilling a social obligation, although Polly can't even manage to do that it would seem.

'Hello' she offers. She glances down at the small bag in Alex's hand. 'You travel light'.

'Yea, my mom always said, if you've got charm and your passport, then you're good to go'.

Piper laughs and she realises it's giddy and a little out of control, but she doesn't care, because Alex is actually _here_ and nothing can take the sheen off that.

They make their way through to the four-seater carriage where Greta is indeed awaiting them. Unlike Polly, she's immediately warm and friendly towards Alex and there's something infinitely homely about the polished chubbiness of her face and braided mousey brown hair that makes Alex relax a little, even if Polly is _still_ regarding her with mild suspicion.

They stow their luggage away and Piper settles into the seat next to Alex as evening shadows cast murky shapes across the carriage. Alex leans back so her head is resting against the seat, imagining what it would feel like to be lost amongst the cool shadows, to dissipate into nothing. The thought is oddly comforting.

And then the whistle is blown and the train jerks into motion, a metal beast, stirred from deep slumber, gathering pace as its senses awaken. And soon the intricacies of rooftops and dense thickets of shrubbery blur into one muddy smudge, as the city melts away around them.

Piper glances up at Greta who has already fallen asleep, her head gently resting against the window, her breath making fuggy clouds on the glass pane. But Polly is as alert as ever, her eyes darting from Alex to her friend and back again, her body rigidly tense as if she's expecting something bad to happen.

'So what do you do?' she asks Alex.

Alex shrugs, 'this and that….but mostly that'

'What's _that_?' Polly asks, furrowing her brow in confusion.

'That? Um…well….it's just _that_ …' Alex says grinning.

A chuckle escapes Piper's lips and she knows this will only infuriate her friend further, but she can't help herself.

'Asshole' Polly mutters under her breath, out of Alex's earshot, but not Piper's. The blonde isn't entirely sure whom the slur is directed at, but she chooses not to press the issue.

'You know Oskar is on vacation in Berchtesgaden this weekend too?' Polly says, changing the subject, the lines of her face softening slightly, giving way to something mischievous instead.

'So?' Piper replies, not bothering to hide her lack of interest.

'So? You were really into him not that long ago, don't you remember the summer ball?'

 _This was a bad idea._

Alex's mind hisses. She swallows hard, desperate to divert her attention to anything other than _this_ conversation, because the thought of Piper with anyone else slashes at her very core. And the intensity of the feeling has caught her so off guard, that she almost feels as if the wind has been knocked out of her. So she turns and stares, deep into the murky eyes of the night, watching the rain lash the windows tirelessly, gaze fixed on the smattering of stars across the inky canvas. Because this is fine, this is nothing. She's just some girl.

And then the carriage door is being roughly slid open and the mood is rebalanced, swiftly and abruptly.

 _Reisepass und ticket bitte_

And suddenly a different kind of trepidation creeps over Alex. She prays this isn't going to be like Munich airport; plucked out of line once her passport had been scrutinized and kept in a holding room until numerous phone calls had been made. She'd guessed it had been part of the game, to keep her on her toes, but she couldn't be sure. Nothing is for certain any more. Only flesh and blood and bone.

Polly nudges Greta awake and the three friends quickly hand over their passports and tickets to the weathered looking inspector, a tuft of dirty blonde hair peeking out from under the brim of his hat. He barely glances over them before handing them back and then dark, slightly sunken eyes, flick pointedly to Alex, as her fingers fumble around in the inside of her coat pocket, until they land on what she's looking for.

She pulls out the passport. It feels heavy in her hands, as if it's carrying the weight of _something_ with it. He flips it open, eyes flitting from the page to Alex and then back again. 'Vause?' he says raising an eyebrow.

Alex nods.

'French?'

She nods again. The man laughs, but she's not sure why, only that suddenly, even breathing is proving difficult. But he just snaps the passport shut and tosses it back to her, along with ticket. She catches it clumsily, watching the ticket escape and flutter to the ground.

'Enjoy your trip' he grins, before departing the coach. It isn't until his footsteps have faded from earshot that Alex exhales, shuddery and uneven. She needs to scream.

…

Munich seems a distant memory now and Polly has finally succumbed to a doze of sorts, although Alex doesn't fully trust that she's not still listening.

'I'm sleepy' Piper murmurs.

'So sleep then' Alex replies, thinking that a visit to the bar may be in order, if she's willing to put up with the disapproving looks. But then they've punctuated most of her life, so it's nothing she can't handle.

'Mmmm maybe' Piper replies.

'Maybe?'

'Uh huh, tell me something about _you_ first'

'Like what?'

'I dunno…about your mom, where is she? What does she do?'

'She's just a regular person' Alex replies, trying to keep her tone as even as possible.

'Well I figured that' Piper laughs, 'I meant what does she do in her day to day life, does she work?'

'She's a teacher' Alex replies, suddenly finding herself being honest. 'Teaches English to kids in high school…'

'Wow, that's so cool' Piper says, turning to face her, eyes sparkling excitedly. 'Is she based in Munich?'

And Alex can feel her throat beginning to dry and a light film of sweat begin to form under the collar of her blouse. 'No, she's not been well….she's gone to stay with my aunt in France, where she can be looked after…' Her voice cracks as she delivers the last word, fractured with emotion and there's no doubt from Piper's reaction that she's noticed.

'Oh Alex' she replies as she raises her fingertips to the brunette's face. And there's a pause, for a silent exchange, as neither woman knows what the other is capable of in this moment and then Piper breaks the charged atmosphere that ripples through the air and runs the pad of her thumb across Alex's lips. Her breath feels hot and wet against her skin and the blonde leans in, further still, so they are mere inches apart, removing her thumb from it's previous position, so nothing is separating them now, only their own trepidation, as something ignites and flares within her…..

'Piper?' Polly mumbles from the shadows and Piper snaps back into her seat, so firmly, she can feel blood pounding behind her eyes, 'Pipes' she repeats, more lucid this time.

'Yes' Piper replies, watching the rise and fall of her own chest as she waits for her breathing to return to normal.

'We nearly there?'

'Nearly'

'Mmmm good, train journeys are so boring' she huffs.

'Boring' Piper repeats. Wondering what Alex is thinking. 'Boring'.

…

It's almost midnight by the time Polly finally concedes to sharing a room with Greta 'and her snoring' and trudges off down the corridor, still muttering gentle disquiet as she disappears from sight.

'You know, I could get my own room if…'

'If what?' Piper interrupts.

'If you don't feel comfortable sharing with me' Alex replies.

Piper doesn't reply, she just turns to unlock the door. The room is vast and opulent, from the roll top bath with gold feet, to the thick luxurious sheets on the two beds. Alex's eyes hover over the short distance separating them, wondering, whilst Piper is in the bathroom, if she should attempt to pull them further apart, for the sake of everyone. But she thinks better of the idea, deciding it would draw attention to the issue, rather than dilute it. So she throws her bag down by the bed nearest the door and makes her way across to the balcony instead.

Piper wasn't wrong about the views, even in the dark, it's apparent they are far- reaching and expansive and Alex is a little lost for words at the sight.

'Pretty amazing huh?' Piper says, unzipping her bag and removing her night -clothes. 'It looks even better in the morning'

'I'll bet' Alex says, turning back towards her companion, her gaze trailing the blonde as she walks to the bathroom. She leaves the door ajar and Alex can see her in the mirror above the sink as she slides out of her dress, exposing honeyed, supple flesh and suddenly her mind is screaming at her to stop, to move, to do anything but this, but her heart will not comply with what her head is pleading of her.

'You know, you can come in if you like, you don't have to watch from out there' Piper says, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. Her voice is liquid velvet: deliciously dangerous. And then she unhooks her bra, tossing it to the floor. Alex's eyes follow the gentle curve of her breasts, the pink plumpness of her flesh, before she turns abruptly, making her way back to her bed, hurriedly unpacking, tossing things into random piles.

'Alex' Piper says. She's near now, but her voice is different this time, bravado removed, replaced by a slight quiver, a naked vulnerability.

The brunette turns to face her. She's wearing a silk nightdress, the aqua marine fabric, bringing out the blue of her eyes. Her unbraided hair is messy, but it lends her a delicate charm that Alex cannot fathom, but she's done thinking now as she gently presses Piper against the hotel room door, the blonde's eyes wide, expectant, failing to leave her own and when she licks her lips, it's the final call, as lips go crashing into one another, searching for answers to questions that neither remember asking.

And they melt into the darkness of tomorrow.

…

It had been Piper that had led her to the bed, tugging on Alex's hand, cajoling for more.

 _I want you._

And the urgency in her tone, the dark desire in her eyes, _almost_ tips Alex over the edge. But not quite. Because Alex is still holding on to something, which she cannot fully rid herself of. 'Not yet' she replies softly, cupping Piper's face in her hands. So instead, she kisses her; harder, fuller deeper, longer. Only pulling away to whisper promises into the still of the night. For the future. Whatever _that_ is.

...

They're lying in Alex's bed, tangled together, the final threads of consciousness slowly snapping between them.

'Alex' she whispers into the shadows, 'are you awake?'

'I guess' she replies, her voice heavy with the early stages of slumber.

'I'm sorry about your mom, I hope she get's better soon'.

Alex snuggles into the blonde a little closer, holds her a little tighter. 'Me too kid' she sighs. 'Me too'


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: A lot of codeine was consumed in the making of the last chapter, hence the confusion regarding whether or not** _ **the**_ **sex happened. I did add a little edit to try and make it clear, but just in case you didn't read that-to clarify- uglies have not as yet been bumped. K?**

 **The flashback is in italics.**

 **Enjoy.**

 _The music is lame. Some up and coming swing band and every time the guy on the guitar catches her eye, he throws her a wink, not noticing (caring?) that Alex's response is blank. Not registering that she can't even be bothered to muster the energy for a scowl. But he continues regardless, until their set is complete and then he hops down off the stage, pointedly seeking her out, propped on a bar stool, nursing her fourth dirty Martini of the night._

' _Can I get you another?' he says flashing a grin._

 _She shakes her head 'I'm pretty much set'._

' _Aw come on, another drink won't do any harm huh?' His grey blue eyes have a glaze she easily recognizes; he's high._

 _Alex raises her almost full glass, 'I said, I'm good._ _ **Thanks**_ _'. And now the husky rasp of her voice reveals a much rawer edge to it, her patience beginning to fray. She looks away, eyes landing on the over spilling ashtray next to her, flicking some chalky ash from the top of it._

' _Give me a chance wontcha? A good looking gal like you doesn't want to spend the whole evening nursing her drink all on her lonesome now does she?' He takes a step forward and now Alex can feel his breath on her cheek, smell the faint traces of bourbon on his breath and she's desperately trying to ignore the crimson tidal wave that's pounding the inside of her skull; the agonizing desire for release._

 _ **Don't lose it. Not now.**_

 _And then his clammy hand is upon her, resting on her thigh and it all happens so quickly, it's almost as if she wasn't the one dealing the blow, but the sight of the man sprawled on the floor clutching his broken nose and the coppery traces of blood across her knuckles, confirms that it_ _ **is**_ _so._

 _And now a crowd is gathering around him, shooting her strange glances, until she's jolted out of her haze by a firm hand on her shoulder. She turns to face the soft puzzlement of one of the barmaids, a manic mane of hair lending her an almost comical look._

' _You better come out back with me, before somebody calls the cops' she says and so Alex does as she's told, not knowing why she trusts the woman, but following her gut instinct all the same._

 _She pulls her into a dimly lit back room. There's a small table in the corner, on which a half empty glass of water rests, a dead fly gently swirling around the surface of it. A flickering candle rests in the middle, wax forming a molten puddle around it._

' _You got quite a right hook on you' the woman grins._

 _Alex glances down at her now throbbing hand and mutters something about beginners luck. Memories of the training camp still fresh in her mind._

' _Let me get you some ice for that' she offers and returns moments later with some cubes wrapped in a bar towel. Alex rests her knuckles against the makeshift ice pack and immediately winces with discomfort._

' _Should help the swelling and I'm pretty sure Marty will think twice before tryna to lay his moves on anyone'._

' _You know him?' Alex replies, although she's not sure why this surprises her, the band probably gig here regularly._

 _The woman shrugs, 'kinda, he mostly stays out of trouble, tried it with me once too….but…he's not my_ _ **type'.**_ _She leaves no room for confusion in what she means, neither do her lingering fingertips as she takes the now sopping towel back from Alex._

' _I'm Nichols by the way. Nicky Nichols. I finish my shift in half an hour if you fancy joining me at a place a little less….full of testosterone? And then maybe you can tell me where that funky accent of yours originates from, cos it sure as hell aint from down town New York.' She laughs and there's something infinitely appealing about it. And so Alex finds herself agreeing, prolonging the night beyond a few snatched drinks and into something quite different._

...

She needs to get some air and maybe sneak a few drags on a cigarette, so she hurriedly pulls on last night's discarded clothes and a coat and with a fleeting glance at the blonde, still deep in slumber, darts out of the hotel room door.

She's barely made it a few feet before she spots one of the maids, fussing around a linen trolley. Her eyes hover over Alex, lingering longer than the brunette feels comfortable with, so she quickens her step, not looking back, but unable to shake the sensation of eyes boring into her and she's almost at the elevator, before a voice calls out to her in a thick German accent.

 _Platinum_

Her code name; Marks had awarded it to her ironically (platinum blonde).

 _I swear to god I've never seen hair so goddamn dark._

Alex stops dead in her tracks, breath caught in the back of her throat.

 _Platinum_

The voice is nearer this time, firmer, more self-assured. So Alex turns around: movements measured and as expected, she's face to face with the maid. Her strawberry blonde hair is neatly pinned up into a bun, glimmering with the odd strand of silvery grey, her blue eyes narrowed into cold, hard slits.

'Follow me' she says, as she quickly scans the corridor, satisfying herself nobody else is around and gestures towards a small storage closet. She flings the door open, Alex following her closely, pulling the door shut behind them. The smell of ammonia immediately hits the brunette hard: so much so, she's struggling not to gag.

'The light switch is behind you' the woman says.

Alex's long fingers trace the wall, until they hit the cold hard plastic she's looking for. She flips the switch and the tiny cupboard is suddenly bathed in a sickly yellow light, emanating from a naked bulb, gently swaying in the middle of the tiny closet.

Dusty boxes are piled up high around them; detergent, bleach and paper towels, but the smell is refusing to dissipate and Alex just hopes she doesn't look as uneasy as she feels.

'What's this about?' she manages to choke out, running a forefinger around the collar of the roll neck sweater she's wearing, suddenly feeling awfully constricted.

The woman fumbles around in the pocket of her standard issue pinafore and for a second, Alex is concerned she may be preparing to pull a weapon, she bristles at the thought, tempted to make a run for it, but her expression must betray her, because suddenly the woman's face breaks out into a large, toothy grin, making her appear younger than she most likely is.

'Relax Platinum, if i'd have wanted to kill you, you'd be dead by now'.

Alex isn't sure if the words are meant to be comforting, but she's still alive, so she'll take it.

She pulls out a piece of neatly folded paper. 'From Marks' she says, stuffing it into Alex's hand. 'Once you've read it _destroy_ it. You got that?'

Alex nods.

The woman re-adjusts her uniform and pushes past Alex to open the door. 'See you around Platinum' she says, as she disappears around the corner, vanishing almost as quickly as she had appeared.

Alex stumbles into the corridor, adrenalin catching up with her all at once, legs jittery, gasping for lungfuls of chemical free air. She's bent over, hands resting on her knees. It's a few moments before she feels steady enough to stand up straight and she realises she's still clutching the note. She unfolds it carefully, reading then re-reading the simple, block lettering of the typewriter, dread rippling through her, causing a tide of unease to soar within her gut:

 **Phone box outside the Chocolatier. 2pm.**

 **M**

And so it begins.

…

She walks a couple of blocks, trying to clear her head. She buys coffee and a newspaper, trying to distract her thoughts, but her mind won't settle for long enough and soon the small, black lettering of the text, blurs into one unfathomable, inky blob.

A watery sun peeks through a small gap in the swirling mass of cloud, but it affords her no warmth and Alex is beginning to regret not pulling on a scarf in her haste. She hurriedly smokes a second cigarette, stubbing it out more forcefully than is required and makes the walk back to the hotel. She's jogging up the steps to the lobby, still distracted by the note, when she almost collides into another body, swerving at the last moment to avoid the collision.

 _Piper's friend: Polly._

Her demeanor is unchanged from the train ride: frigid and suspicious. But Alex doesn't have the headspace to analayse it any further. 'Hey' she offers instead. 'You're up early'.

'Well I couldn't sleep, on account of Greta's snoring, so I thought I may aswell get up and take a walk.'

It's a less than subtle dig regarding the sleeping arrangements, but her discomfort only seeks to amuse Alex and if she's being really honest, even gives her a little stab of satisfaction, so she merely nods in response.

'Piper not with you?' she continues.

'Yea, she's in my pocket' Alex replies, patting her coat with a grin.

Polly's lips curl up as though she's just spotted something disgusting. 'Well, when she's awake, can you ask her to come by my room? I should be back in an hour or so' she asks, not bothering to soften her tone even slightly.

'Will do' Alex replies 'see you later'. Polly doesn't reply, merely continues her descent down the steps and disappears into the distance, towards the main row of stores.

Alex glances down at her watch: 8am. Only six hours to go. Suddenly the nausea is back.

…

'Hmmm, where d'ya go' Piper drawls sleepily, as Alex re-enters the hotel room. She's propped up on several pillows, her back pressed against the bedstead. And there's something about the drowsiness of her voice, the way her blonde hair looks all the more radiant, in the early morning light, as it tumbles down her shoulders and past her breasts, that lends her an almost ethereal glow. And yet it is Alex that suddenly feels exposed: naked.

'Just for coffee' she replies, removing her coat and tossing it across the chaise lounge, positioned in front of the panoramic window.

'It's cold' Piper says, pulling the sheets right up to her neck, so that now, only her head is visible.

'Well it is winter' Alex laughs.

'Come back to bed and warm me up' she replies, in a whisper, the edges of her words blurred with something dangerous.

'Not a good idea' Alex says, suddenly aware that the note is still in her coat pocket, yet to be destroyed.

Piper insists that this makes the brunette boring, as she slides back beneath the covers, muffling her voice slightly, ignoring Alex's argument that sometimes, boring is necessary. Although the thought of Piper's warm flesh against hers is making her rethink this thought process more rapidly than she would like.

'I spend most of my days being boring, so forgive me if I'm not thrilled with your sudden display of conscience' the blonde replies, her tone becoming agitated.

Alex walks over to the bed, gently resting on the side that Piper's curled form is presently occupying. 'This isn't about conscience, I don't regret that we kissed last night, if that's what you think'

Piper lifts her head from the pillow slightly, her eyes seeking validation from Alex. 'No?'

'Of course not' she replies, 'but…'

'I know the but Alex, there's no need for you to explain…'

'It isn't wise for us to get involved, not just for the most obvious reasons either'

'What other reasons are there?'

Alex immediately diverts her gaze, eyes tracing the fire evacuation instructions hung on the back of the hotel room door.

'Alex?' Piper says, her voice more urgent this time. 'Is it something to do with daddy? Why you're so secretive all the time?'

'It's complicated Piper…I can't go into it, not right now' she replies, eyes still failing to meet the blonde's.

'What, are you a spy or something?' she laughs.

Alex can immediately feel the blood rushing to her cheeks.

 _Defector_

'Alex?' she presses, pulling herself upright in the bed

Alex turns to face her, gathering her nerve. This shouldn't be hard, lying has become second nature to her over the last few years, but something in the gentle quiver of the blonde's voice, the eagerness of her eyes, is making it immeasurably difficult to deliver those tried and tested lines and so instead, her chest feels tight and uncomfortable, like all the breath is being sucked out of her.

'It's complicated' she repeats, but her voice sounds small and ineffectual, just sound with no meaning, like she's trapped underwater.

'So?'

'So?' Alex replies, turning to face the blonde.

'You just gonna keep repeating what I say? Not very imaginative for a spy, huh?' And she laughs and it's free and it's light and it immediately cracks the tension that had cloaked them momentarily.

 _She was just making a joke._

They order room service and Piper makes a point of sitting at the table near the balcony without dressing.

'I thought you were cold' Alex says taking a sip of coffee, desperate not to divert her gaze to where Piper is anticipating she will.

 _Cat and mouse._

'It's worth it' she says, a small grin playing at the corners of her mouth as she butters bread.

'What is?' Alex replies.

'Watching that little muscle in jaw pulse like that'

'Just finish your breakfast'

'I don't think it's _my_ appetite we should be worrying about' Piper says in barely more than a whisper.

Alex takes another gulpful of coffee, wondering if her resolve will last the distance.

Piper excuses herself from the table, informs Alex, ever so casually, _too_ casually that she's about to take a bath, that she's pretty certain the lock on the bathroom door is broken. And the blue of her eyes becomes momentarily darker.

The invitation is plain.

She's left the brunette in no doubt about what she wants. But Alex needs to keep her mind clear, the mission is too important for distractions. So she shakes her head lightly, smiles softly and promises, 'another time'.

She's not sure she'll get to keep it.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Hey folks, first of all apologies for the radio silence, but I'm afraid that I'm going to plead life once again. What can I do? It has a pesky habit of getting in the way.**

 **Anyway, not sure how many people are still reading this/interested/care, but here's the latest chapter. Would be grateful for your thoughts, even if it's just a couple of words.**

 **Enjoy**

 _Can you keep a secret?_

There are shadows drifting around her, clouds failing to settle. In the distance a whistle is being blown, so shrill that Alex has to cover her ears, but for some reason this only makes the sound louder and it's then that she realises why. The noise is actually coming from her….and that it's not a whistle at all…but her own screams

 _Can you keep a secret?_

And suddenly she's aware of flesh, supple and warm, delicate against her face and breath laced with a feint aroma of Vanilla and it takes a few moments for her to realise the gentle, rhythmical stroking is that of Piper Chapman and that the black clouds have vanished, belonging to nothing more than her sub-conscience. She supposes this should afford her some comfort, but instead her stomach lurches uncomfortably. So she excuses herself, vomits up this morning's breakfast and most of last nights' dinner, splashes her face with cold water and perches herself on the lip of the bathtub, breathless, hands clammy.

There's a gentle rap on the door.

'You ok?' Piper enquires.

Silence.

'You wanna talk about it?' the words are quickly followed by laughter. 'Stupid question huh, since when do you ever talk about anything?'

And the girl's frankness makes Alex smile and her heart feel a little lighter. 'I'll be out in a second' she replies as calmly as is conceivable right now.

It's midday, two hours until she needs to meet M. Her mouth tastes stale, acidic and unfamiliar. She sticks her head under the cold tap of the sink allowing the water to fill her mouth, until it spills out over the sides. She repeats the process several times until it feels a little less disgusting.

'You sure you're ok?' Piper enquires again.

Alex swings the door open and from the look on the blonde's face, it's probably safe to say that she looks _far_ from ok.

'Anyone ever told you it's rude to stare?' Alex says. She strides over to a chest of draws where she'd hurriedly tossed some clothes yesterday evening and searches for a suitable top to change into, one that doesn't carry with it the stale smell of vomit.

'I'm sorry…just you look….well….terrible'

'You know what they say about flattery….'

Piper laughs, 'I know, I know, I don't mean it that way….it's just that…maybe you're sickening for something?'

 _Home!_ Alex's mind barks 'I'll be ok' she replies instead, 'probably the chicken from last night'

'You didn't eat chicken'

'The wine then, I don't know' she says waving a hand dismissively, unable to prevent her mind from wandering to M, what he needs to discuss with her. She has nothing of any worth to report back to him, not right now, she just needs more time. But, she's quickly learning, it's the one thing she never seems to have in surplus.

'Polly, Greta and I are heading up to the Kehlsteinhaus shortly if you'd like to join us…..' Piper asks.

There's a hopeful quiver to her voice that makes Alex feel even more rotten than she already does. 'I can't' she replies, not bothering to make eye contact, trying to take the easier route out.

'Why not? The fresh air might do you good and…'

'I said no Piper!' The words are spat out with such ferocity that the blonde's head jolts back in surprise.

'Well fuck you then' she replies, snatching up her coat from the back of a chair and making her way towards the door of the hotel room. And it's only a few seconds before guilt slices through Alex, until her fingers curl around Piper's wrist pulling her towards her in a clumsy sort of embrace.

Piper's eyes are searching hers for something, _anything_ , but she's only met with a tender confusion. 'What is it?' she whispers, 'you can tell me'

 _Can you keep a secret?_

Alex's lips brush Piper's forehead, something in between a kiss and a gentle breath and it's a strange sort of cathartic motion and suddenly she's wishing she didn't have to leave, that M didn't exist, that her life hadn't happened the way it has, that she was _free._

'I'm sorry kid' she mutters softly into Piper's hair, 'I'm sorry' she repeats. And although Piper's confusion has failed to abate, she knows better than to question further, so she simply laces Alex's fingers through her own and they stand there for a little while, gently swaying to nothing and everything, neither of them wanting to be the first to pull away, when eventually a knock on the door parts them. Piper goes to answer and Alex fails to suppress a weary eye roll when she realises it's Polly.

Piper invites her inside and the expression on her friend's faces quickly changes into something harder, impenetrable, when she spots Alex sitting on the edge of one of the beds.

'Hello again' she offers, the words barbed, almost as if it's painful for her to deliver them. Alex merely nods in response.

'Piper are we leaving? I told Oskar we would meet them at the café around the corner before we made our way to the Kehlsteinhaus.

'You shouldn't have done that' Piper replies, her eyes darting from Polly to Alex and back again.

Polly laughs, 'Oh come on Pipes, Oskar is cute and fun, what's the harm?'

'You heard what she said' Alex interrupts. She doesn't care that she's not been directly included in the conversation, the discomfort on Piper's face is enough for her to know that Polly is pushing something she shouldn't be.

'And what does this have to do with you?' Polly replies flatly. 'You weren't invited'

'Poll, that's enough' Piper snaps

Polly averts her gaze to the floor as if she's aware she's overstepped the mark, but Alex is still unmoved.

'She was invited, I invited her' Piper adds

'Don't worry' Alex says glancing over at Polly, 'I can't make it anyway'. She stands up and grabs her coat and scarf from the bed.

'Look, don't leave on my account' Polly says in a tone that's lacking any discernible conviction.

Alex laughs, it's sardonic and raw, 'don't flatter yourself, I've got things to do. I'll see you later Piper'. She doesn't wait for a response before exiting, she figures it's better to take a walk, grab some food, do anything to clear her head before she meets M. She's half way down the corridor before she hears Piper's voice calling out to her, but she doesn't stop, doesn't respond. She can't afford to look back. Not now.

…

It's 1pm, she's in a small pub a few doors down from the chocolatier where she's been requested to meet M. She orders Bratwurst and Bratkartoffein. The sausage is good, but the potatoes are little too salty and she finds herself having to swill it down with copious amounts of beer to make it even vaguely palatable. It does the trick though, because soon not only is the taste of the food barely noticeable, but everything seems softer some how, more pleasant, as if she's viewing it through a different lense. But there's a man in the corner of the room, tucked into a large booth by the far window. Alex can't be completely certain, but she thinks she may have spotted him in the hotel yesterday and in the lobby this morning when she was leaving. She takes another long pull on her drink, tries to examine him further without raising suspicion. He could just be another guest, visiting friends? family? She notices a wedding ring, but no sign of a wife and a scar across the top of his right cheek. And then he looks up, momentarily their eyes meet and she notes he's just as keen as her to look away, his hand swiftly moving to rest just above his right hip.

 _He's got a gun_

The realisation hits her with sobering force.

Alex tosses some notes down for her meal, her head suddenly swirling with a mass of darkness, almost tripping over the leg of her chair in haste to leave. It screeches across the tiled floor like a strangled scream, but if he's noticed, the man doesn't look up. And just as she thinks she's in the clear, fingers clasped around the handle of the exit door, a firm hand pulls her back; it's one of the barmaids. She thrusts a note into Alex's hand wordlessly and returns to wiping down tables. The motion is so smooth, Alex is in no doubt that she's one of _them._

She doesn't waste any further time, ignoring the cold slap of air that hits her as soon as she hits the street, her coat still clutched firmly in her left hand and makes her way down the cobbled path, turning into the first secluded alleyway she can find. She's surprised at how breathless she is, how hard her heart is rattling her rib cage as she unfolds the piece of paper, but if she's hoping the neat black script will alleviate her fears, she couldn't be more mistaken:

 **Platinum,**

 **Meeting has been compromised, await further contact. Be on your guard.**

 **M.**

Alex swallows hard, bile filling her mouth with alarming ferocity and then for the second time that day, she's sick.

…

She guesses it's early evening, the cool shadows creeping across the room, dancing haphazardly; an eerie puppet show. Her head is still throbbing and her throat feels like sawdust. She pulls herself upright, grabbing her glasses from the nightstand, eyes re-adjusting to the near gloom flanking her bed.

'You're awake' a voice says. It's Piper.

'Hey' Alex replies, barely able to recognise the croak that leaves her mouth.

'You should rest more, you were running a fever a while ago'

'I was?'

'Uh huh'. Piper walks up to the bed and delicately places a hand on Alex's forehead, she automatically flinches at the touch. 'It's ok, you're safe'

And her choice of words automatically puts Alex further on edge, but her legs feel like jelly and the room seems a blur, as if she's viewing it from under water. So she's rooted to spot for now, surrounded by an ever-blooming sense of dread.

Piper's eyes don't seem blue like before, they're icier, almost white and her lips, no longer rosy and inviting, instead crimson and ominous.

'It's going to be ok' the blonde assures her, slender fingers curling strand's of Alex's hair around her fingertips 'you're safe now' she repeats, pulling the brunette close, kissing her lightly on the top of her head. But Alex is still, rigid with trepidation, because this girl doesn't sound like Piper, she doesn't smell like Piper, she doesn't _feel_ like Piper….and yet she is….Piper.

'Can you keep a secret?' she breathes, causing Alex to shudder involuntarily. And then her free hand is moving, but Alex's eyes can't focus to see what she's doing, but she swears she's caught sight of something, the glint of metal, or maybe it's just the light, if only she could get her goddamn eyes to focus. She begins to squirm, but she can't feel her legs at all now, not even a twinge and her mouth opens to form a scream, but there's no sound.

'Can you keep a secret Alex', the words sound so delicious from her lips, soothing, almost a lullaby, a gentle hum, a summer breeze

 _My darling München_

Alex closes her eyes momentarily, mere seconds, but it's both long enough and short enough. Long enough for Piper to draw the knife, long enough for her to ram it right between Alex's ribs and short enough. Short enough for Alex to realise the fire currently spreading through her chest is the conclusion. And really, she shouldn't be so surprised, should she?

 _Can you keep a secret?_

Alex is taking it to the grave.

…

There's voices she thinks. _Her mother? Her aunt?_

Laughter and a strange sort of ethereal glow and an odd pressure on her chest, it starts off innocuous enough and then gradually increases until she's squirming under the strain, her mouth opening and closing goldfish like for breath that will not come. And the scream that's trapped in her mind, only seeks to confirm what she's known all along. It's always been her.

And then she's falling, but she's ready for it, to embrace it all.

But it's 6pm, she's sitting bolt upright in her bed, covered in a sheen of cold sweat, blanketed by darkness. Alive.

But alone.

Again.


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: So you know my penchant for fucking about with timelines? Well here it is again!**

 **So the first set of italics is around three years in the past and the section 'Whispers in Berlin' is one year into the future. The rest is set in the present. Hope that little puzzle makes sense.**

 **Once again, thanks for all your comments and thoughts, they are very much appreciated. Please let me know what you think of the timeline shenanigans.**

 **Enjoy**

 _ **08:00 hrs- Rechlin-Lärz Airfield**_

 _The dive-bombers arrive just as Alex's feet hit the tarmac._

 _Unbranded._

 _It's protocol at testing stage. And it makes it a little better. Not ok, not acceptable, but_ _ **better.**_ _She zips up her flight suit as far as it will go, eyes scanning the aircraft._

 _Aesthetically? It's ugly, but she already knows flying it is going to be a different matter altogether. The rumour mill has been rife for weeks, talk of a revolutionary forward-swept wing and fixed landing gear._

 _She'd thought it was just Chinese whispers, a dumb urban myth that had been perpetuated by some new blood, like the Luftwaffe pilot who had been shot down after straying out of the testing zone and into British waters._

 _He'd been back a month, maybe less, before Alex starting overhearing hushed conversations in shadowy corners of the training facility. 'He said they can ignite the sea'_

 _And so a muted sort of fear bloomed, of a biblical carpet of fire, streaking across the water._

' _Albie' she mutters to herself as his name suddenly comes to her. The only son of a baker and victim of last falls' tuberculosis epidemic._

 _Or so they were told._

' _Geschwader Vause?'_

 _Alex whips her head around and spots her colleague Dieter striding towards her. There's always been something about him that sets her on edge. He's unassuming enough, but maybe a little too eager? And so solidly Aryan, it's almost insulting. But even if the former is his fault, the latter certainly isn't and so she figures she should really start cutting him some slack._

 _Maybe._

' _Hey' she says, hoping he's not arriving with bad news about the aircraft. 'Everything ok?'_

 _Dieter runs a hand over his neatly cropped blonde hair, blue eyes sparkling in the early morning haze, 'There's a phone call for you'. He pauses, licks his lips and Alex isn't entirely certain if it's for dramatic effect or if there really_ _ **is**_ _something wrong. But either way, she wishes he'd hurry the fuck up and finish the sentence. 'It's your mother' he finally adds._

' _Oh' Alex replies blankly. It's unusual for her mother to call at the test centre. In fact she's hard pressed to remember the last time that she did. So she follows Dieter quickly, barely acknowledging his attempts at small talk (what are her plans for the weekend? Has she been to the new picture house that's opened up in town?) and tries to regularise her breathing instead._

 _And she could chastise herself for overacting, consider herself foolish for thinking the worst, but in a state of war, anything is possible._

 _They walk up to the small booth tucked at the back of the airfield. Alex flings the door open, urgency getting the better of her._

' _Everything ok?' Deiter asks, clearly a little alarmed at the ferocity of her actions._

 _She smiles apologetically and nods with as much enthusiasm as she can muster._

' _Wenn Sie sicher?'_

' _Yes, yes, I'm sure' she replies, feeling anything but._

' _Ok' he says nodding, pulling the door shut behind him as he exits, his movements strangely measured for someone of his stature. Outside he sits on a patch dusty turf and lights a cigarette, watching a fighter jet make a banking turn in the sky; a dirty speck on a watery blue horizon._

 _Alex snatches up the receiver from the desk, certain that the fervent thrumming of her heart is audible on the other end of the line._

' _Hello' she offers shakily, into the veritable void._

 _Silence, followed by a slight crackling sound. And then it's her. Diane. 'Alex!'_

 _Her name is an exclamation, a hope._

' _What is it, is everything ok?' The words are delivered so quickly, that they almost collide into one another as they tumble out of her mouth_

' _Listen to me, it's going to be ok'_

' _What is?!' Alex replies, breath hitching. Outside the booth Deiter is whistling, clear as morning birdsong. She thinks she recognises the tune, only it won't come to her just yet._

' _This is._ _ **We**_ _are. We're going to be ok' her mother repeats, attempting more conviction this time._

' _Mom, please just tell me what's wrong, where are you?…' and the whistling is louder still, picking up speed, but it's no longer melodious, morphing into something less delicate and more piercing. The sound slices right through her brain, like fingernails across chalkboard. She squeezes her eyes shut attempting to focus. On this: on_ _ **Diane**_ _._

' _I'm in police custody. They found out about the tutoring…and the books…'_

 _A pause….a snapping sound…_

' _Alex…' Her name sounds almost pained as it's delivered, but there's no right of reply, the line's gone dead. White noise her sole companion now._

 _Alex drops the receiver to the floor. It lands with a dirty clunk. And still the whistling goes on, the screeching end of a boiling kettle and yet the goddamn song won't come to her, what the fuck is it?!_

 _ **09:17 hrs- Rechlin-Lärz Airfield medical facility**_

 _Later, she doesn't remember putting her fist through the glass door of the booth, or even the words she spoke as Dieter carried her out to the medical room where she lies presently, heavily sedated, face pressed against the cool white sheets._

 _And then it comes to her. Just like that._ _ **The**_ _song._

' _Ode to Joy' she says out loud. And then she's laughing or crying (it could be both) but it doesn't matter any more, nothing does from now on._

 _Because the state of play has changed; and she's no idea of the rules._

…

 _ **Whispers in Berlin**_

 _A bullet_

 _A falling star_

 _Camp beds_

 _Ticket stubs_

 _Special wishes_

 _Frozen kisses_

 _The crunch of snow_

 _A crimson flower, blooming across the ice_

 _And the words you thought you'd never hear….._

…

Alex is awake by the time she hears Piper creeping into their room. But she'd rather not speak, because the dark is affording her a strange comfort: an anonymity of sorts and she doesn't want to break the charade, not just yet at least.

'Hey, you awake?' comes the whisper.

Alex doesn't reply.

'Alex?' the second time sounds more of a plea, but she won't crack, not today.

'Guess you're not….' there's a pause, punctuated with disappointment and just when Alex thinks Piper's given her up, lost to a world of murky shadows, she speaks again. But this time her voice is different, saturated with emotion.

'I missed you today' she finally adds. 'Sweet dreams'

Alex can't trust herself to say it back, for it to just be a good night wish and nothing else, because she's so close to unraveling she can feel it thrumming through her whole body. So she ignores the pang in her chest, locks away the longing in her bones and prays for sleep to take her; somewhere only she knows.

…

 _ **Whispers in Berlin**_

 _The winter is becoming unbearable. The weather has taken a turn for the worse and snowdrifts have been spotted east. There's talk of the trains being cancelled,_

 _Alex overhears some men discussing it in a pub at lunchtime._

' _Which trains?!' she asks, not caring that both her tone and manner are making her seem odd to the two strangers she's just interrupted. They look at her curiously, unsure what to make of her. So she repeats her request, even less politely this time, until one of then laughs._

' _Where's the fire?'_

 _Alex has to stop herself from telling him she's gonna light one up his fucking ass if he doesn't answer her question soon. But luckily for him (and probably her) he tells her._

' _München'._

 _There's talk of all services to and from the capital being suspended without further notice. And suddenly Alex's throat is dry, pressure building behind her eyes._

' _Are you sure?' she presses._

 _Both men shrug. 'Nothing's 100 per cent, but that's Berlin Winter's for you'. They both smile, this time it seems warmer, perhaps sensing Alex's mood, but it doesn't work, her mind is in free fall now. She mumbles a thank you and heads straight to the train station. It's a thirty-minute walk at a stroll, Alex makes it in twenty._

 _By the time she arrives, she realises that the adrenalin has given her a strange buzz and all her senses seemed heightened ten fold, so that the noise of the thronging crowd is more agitating, the jostling at the information booth more frustrating, but her body is aching with longing and she needs to know. Because it's been four months since she last saw Piper Chapman and she's not sure she can manage a day longer._

 _She looks up at the clock looming over platform one; the train is due in half an hour. Her stomach is churning and she's guessing it wasn't the best idea to drink two beers on an empty stomach, but now the mere thought of food is making her feel queasy. She lights a cigarette, waits for the line to the information booth to abate a little. The sky is an ominous grey mass, pregnant with moisture and Alex knows it's only a matter of time….._

 _The cold is unrelenting and on especially vicious days like this, the scar on her right ribcage begins to smart. It's a reminder of something she doesn't need right now, something lost, something borrowed….something broken._

 _A young boy walks by with his sister. Alex asks him if he's interested in making some money. He eyes her suspiciously at first, until she shows him a fistful of coins, glinting against the soot coloured clouds and then he reveals a gap toothed grin. So she sends him on his mission and five minutes later, surreptitiously ducking and weaving through the throngs of disgruntled crowds, he returns and proudly advises her that there will be no more trains arriving from München today. She hands him the coins wordlessly and watches he and his sister arguing about how to spend the spoils, as they wander down the street._

 _And just like that it's done._

 _She thinks about phoning the Chapman residence, but it's a foolish idea, anyone could answer, Bill, Carol…Danny and then there really_ _ **would**_ _be cause for concern. So she pushes past groups of people at the station entrance and paces the platform aimlessly. She's not sure what it's achieving, she can't make Piper's train materialise out of thin air, but it's more comforting than going back to her lodgings or sitting in some non descript pub in a non descript part of town, eyes raking over her, immediately identifying her as a stranger. Because as far as she can remember, Alex Vause has never belonged and she's not sure why, but it's stinging a little more than usual today, an odd prickling sort of heat._

 _She watches a man sat on a bench further down the platform, folding and unfolding a newspaper. Maybe he's like her? A foolish dreamer, waiting for a train that's never going to arrive. And then he's suddenly standing up, looking past her into the distance. She spins around on her heel, follows his gaze and the plume of smoke in the distance announces it clear enough. It's a train! She hurries towards him, breaking into a light sprint._

' _Warten Sie auf den Zug von München?' she asks, her voice almost shrill. His expression is one of puzzlement, she guesses because of her demeanor, but he nods all the same._

 _And soon the metal beast is hissing and spitting to a stop, pistons spluttering to a standstill. Alex's eyes are darting from carriage to carriage, her legs failing to keep up and then Piper calls her name and if Alex Vause has ever heard a sweeter sound, then she's struggling to remember when._

 _She looks up, past a man struggling with two leather suitcases and there she is; she looks older some how, her face a little harder, her eyes slightly colder, but as soon as she spots Alex, it all melts away and it's_ _ **that**_ _smile, the one that always reaches her eyes when they're together and suddenly she is the old Piper, the one that she likes best._

' _It's so good to see you' she says wrapping her arms around Alex's neck, resisting the urge to smother her in kisses. But the embrace lingers longer than it ought to and it's Alex that has to remind her of where they are, breaking the moment._

' _My place isn't far from here' Alex says, still smiling._

 _And Piper can't resist pulling her close once more. 'I've missed you so much' she whispers fervently, her blood ablaze, 'let me show you how'._

' _Piper….' she breathes and it's laced with all the frustrations and longing of four whole months._

 _And this time it's the blonde that pulls away. 'Let's go' she grins._

 _And then it begins to snow._


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Hey folks. I know I probably don't say it often enough, but I really do appreciate those that take the time out to leave reviews. So thank you so much.**

 **This whole chapter is a flash forward 12 months, hence italics.**

 **Enjoy.**

 _ **Whispers in Berlin**_

 _The walk to the café isn't far Alex promises, but they end up being diverted by a Student Union protest. And for a second, Piper is in awe of the sea of placards marching towards her: angry, crimson lettering signaling disquiet._

' _Book burnings' Alex mumbles under her breath, ducking into a side street, Piper close behind her, 'well more of them, at least' she adds._

 _Piper nods silently, keeps her eyes fixed firmly ahead, admonishing herself for her own naivety, that things would be any different in another city, after all, the wound is just the same._

 _The cobblestones are becoming treacherous underfoot as the snow becomes heavier; winter's confetti, although right at this moment, Alex has never felt less like celebrating, after all, she'd decided weeks ago that this was the visit she was going to come clean, although, in a way, the lie is possibly the only thing binding them together; a shared protection afforded by mutual deceit…._

 _Piper's engagement…_

' _His name is Christofer….' Bill Chapman delighted in telling her and even through the crackle and fizz of a phone line, his voice is thick with self-satisfaction._

' _Congratulations' she'd replied, words hollow: the echoing of her heart. And then she'd hung up, clinically and a little cowardly…perhaps. But even now, the idea is pinching at her flesh, fresh jolts of pain haphazardly stabbing at her, whenever her mind is free to wander._

 _He wouldn't have touched her. Piper wouldn't allow it. She's certain of that. Almost always, except for on especially dark nights, when the solitude grips her tighter than the cold, when the darkness threatens to suffocate her and the pain takes on fresh life, threatening to sear through her skin;_

 _But we are the same after all, blood and flesh and bone._

 _Maybe._

' _Perhaps we should have dropped my case back at yours?' Piper says, shifting her luggage from one hand to the other._

' _I'd forgotten that your laboring is carried out by the help' Alex chuckles._

' _Laboring?'_

' _Anything that raises a few beads of sweat on your brow at least'_

' _You sure about that?' Piper says, her grin wicked._

 _Christofer! It slices through Alex's heart so rapidly that the pain is almost physical._

' _Alex? You ok?' the blonde enquires._

 _She replies with a smile and they stop outside the coffee shop they were searching for. A yellow Star of David has been spray painted on the wall next to it, faded around the edges, melting into the stone. Piper's eyes flick from the graffiti, to Alex and then back again._

' _It used to be Jewish owned' Alex offers by way of explanation._

' _Used_ _to be?'_

' _Come on Piper, you know how this goes surely?'_

' _I just, I…' she can't finish the sentence, because she's not sure what to say, why_ _any_ _of this should be a surprise to her._

 _They take a seat by the window and Piper immediately wishes they hadn't, because the draught from the door is unforgiving, but Alex is settled into a chair already, so she does her best to ignore it. But it's not just the cold that's gnawing at her, it's the lie and it's so wretched and poisonous that it's all she can do not to spill it immediately, allow herself to feel light again, like each step doesn't carry with it a new dread. But she can't. Alex's tired eyes tell her that much. Not right now. Tomorrow she promises herself._

' _I've missed you' she says smiling, watching Alex closely. And it's foolish she knows, but she's sort of scared that the brunette can read her thoughts and this simultaneously fills her with despair and a strange sort of relief, after all, how delicious it would feel to be free again. But maybe it was never supposed to be that simple. She lets a sigh escape her lips, betraying her inner turmoil._

' _I've missed you too' Alex replies. But it's guarded somehow, because the sentiment doesn't quite reach her eyes, instead, the flecks of green shimmer with something else, a dangerous sort of intensity. Piper immediately diverts her eyes to the checkered table cloth, her hand rubbing the spot on the back of her neck that the cutting draught keeps troubling._

' _You seem tired' the blonde says, still not mustering the courage to meet Alex's gaze again._

' _Lumpy mattress'_

 _They both laugh and it eases the mood momentarily, well long enough at least for them to order some coffee and food and for their respective masks to slip a little, so for a short while they're back wandering the markets of Munich, or listening to the light pitter patter of rain on the roof of Frau Ziegler's house, cocooned in one another, as they lie silently in Alex's rickety single bed, counting down the minutes until her landlady returns. They both seemed much younger then Piper thinks, although it's only been the matter of 12 months, but war has a habit of magnifying things, they both know that._

' _You said your mother was sick when we last spoke' Piper asks gingerly. She doesn't press further, figures she'll leave it to Alex to decide how much detail she wants to provide. She doesn't, she simply shrugs, sips her coffee, adds a perfunctory 'she's ok' and stabs her fork firmly into the slice of kirschtorte sat between them on a chipped plate. But she doesn't eat it, just uses the prongs of the fork to crumble it into tiny bits._

' _What did the cake ever do to you?' Piper says laughing._

 _Alex looks up, she can see that Piper is trying her best, to lighten the mood, to make Alex smile, to do anything to make it feel less like they're both being sucked into a dark void. But the blonde's face drops again quickly and it slashes at Alex's heart in a way that irritates her. Because why should this girl have this type of hold on her? What right has she, when for all Alex knows, she's fucking some Aryan pinup boy._

 _But she wouldn't, she's sure._

 _She thinks._

 _She can't._

 _Her mind repeats it firmer._

 _She can't._

 _But it doesn't make her feel any better, just ignites a sickly, swirling in the pit of stomach._

' _Alex?'_

' _I'm sorry' she mutters, piercing the fork straight through the centre of a cherry. Scarlet liquid smatters the tablecloth, the plate, Piper's outstretched hand and there's something about the contrast of the viscous, crimson liquid against the pristine paleness of Piper's skin that makes Alex want to be sick._

' _We can head back if you like?' Piper offers, unsure of what else to do, part of her beginning to wish that the train had been cancelled after all. But the thought is fleeting and she immediately chases it away, imagining the feel of Alex's lips against hers. They just need to be alone again, she reasons, the heat of Alex's creamy flesh next to hers is replenishing, medicinal even and the distance has only made the need more acute._

 _Alex nods, they toss some money onto the table and take the short walk back to her apartment._

' _My place is….'_

' _What?' Piper says, noting the hesitation in the brunette's voice._

' _Small'_

' _So?'_

' _So, I hope your expectations are low is all…I don't want to disappoint you'_

 _Piper wants to tell her that she can never do that, by virtue of the fact that she's Alex, that on her own Piper has never quite felt like_ _anything,_ _but with Alex, it's as though the jagged edges of her own life have finally found something that it can fit. But she doesn't say any of that, bites back the emotion threatening to spill out and allows her hand to gently brush Alex's as they near the apartment. It seems enough, because for the first time since they left the train station, she sees Alex smile, the one that makes her look a little goofy, because the veneer is cracked. And it's not perfect, it doesn't automatically fix everything, but it is_ _something._ _And Piper holds on to that thought for the rest of the afternoon: a balm for her own wounds._

…

 _They negotiate the two sets of stairs by taking it in turns to carry Piper's case._

' _Have you run away from home?' Alex says, grimacing as she takes the luggage from the blonde._

' _What do you mean?'_

' _Well this thing feels like it's been packed with all your worldly possessions?'_

 _Piper laughs. 'Maybe_ _you're_ _the one that needs the hired help huh?'_

' _Funny'_

 _Eventually they make it inside the apartment and Alex sets the case down by the door, exhaling with relief. Piper instinctively wraps her arms around herself, because the place doesn't just feel chilly, it feels bone penetratingly icy._

 _Her eyes flick to the living room window, which has been haphazardly covered with paper tape around the periphery._

' _I did warn you about this place' Alex says, turning away and busying herself with lighting the small coal fire in the corner of the room. 'Makes Frau Ziegler's house seem like a palace in comparison'_

' _No, it's great' Piper says, the lack of conviction painful. 'What's the tape on the window for?'_

' _Bomb blasts…..the reverberations can easily cause the glass to shatter'_

 _And once again Piper feels like some spoilt little Aryan brat. After all, she's never had to concern herself with such precautions. 'Oh' is all she can manage in response, the cold reality a sobering jolt, that effectively, all that is separating Alex from life and death is a flimsy roll of tape. And suddenly her throat feels constricted, like she's trying to swallow down something barbed._

 _Tears? Guilt? The truth….._

' _It will take a little while to heat up, but it should be warm enough in a couple of hours' Alex says, standing upright. 'You want some tea?'_

 _They haven't touched each other properly since the embrace at the train station, when pure relief overrode anything else. But now Alex can't get the lie out of her head. Her own secret…Piper's deceit._

 _The blonde has moved to the window, peering out into the gloom. 'There's smoke' she suddenly says, alarmed._

' _Where?' Alex says hurrying over._

 _Piper points to a large, billowing, plume, rising to meet the early evening horizon, tucked behind the city library._

' _It's the synagogue' Alex says solemnly._

' _How do you know?'_

' _Because it's the third time this month…the library will be next…..' she pauses, turns to face Piper 'dort, wo man bücher verbrennt, verbrennt manam ende auch menschen'_

 _Piper furrows her brow in confusion._

' _It's a quote from Heinrich Heine, some of his books have already been destroyed and he's right, if they can destroy books, why not people? Nothing is sacred any more, not words, not man, not…..' she stops, unsure of what she should reveal right now. 'Do you love me?'_

' _What?'_

 _The question catches Piper so off guard that she almost stumbles backwards._

' _Do you love me?' Alex repeats, her voice slightly fractured this time as she fights to keep the desperation from bleeding into her words._

' _Alex…I….' She should tell her now Piper thinks, come clean, explain about Christofer, what she has planned, that she's been saving money from wherever she can, even dipping into her father's wallet when she's sure he won't notice, her mother's purse when she's too inebriated to comprehend and it's not much, but it's_ _something,_ _though right now, she's not sure that's going to be enough, she needs something more solid, but words simply feel like grains of sand slipping through her fingers; no traction, no impact._

 _So instead, she pulls the brunette close, so nothing is separating them, save for the armor of unspoken truths. And they stay like for a while, until the evening melts into night and their shadows dissolve into nothing._

 _And outside, the city burns around them._


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Hello folks, here is another chapter. The part in italics is a flashback to when Alex is in America (pre-Piper) and the second part is set in the present. The whole installment has a festive flavour, so I hope you enjoy it. I'm not sure if I'll get time to post again before Christmas, but if not, thank you so much to everyone that has read my stories and/or reviewed them over the last year, you're all rather fantastic and I hope you have a jolly good Christmas.**

 **Enjoy.**

 _They returned last night, the whispering shadows of her subconscious; vivid in parts, less so in others, but seamlessly moving through her mind nonetheless, as if they formed simultaneous acts of a play, an interlinked tale, each scene unraveling a fresh horror, a series of new questions. And it's not until she's blinking herself awake, greeting another bleak New York City dawn, that she realises she's time to catch her breath, to figure it out._

 _To save_ _ **her.**_

 _She lies still; corpse rigid for a few more minutes, watching the rays of a diluted sun sneak through the slats of a broken blind. It creates a strange crescent of warm, dappling sunlight. And it makes her smile, for no other reason than she can_ _ **see**_ _it, that if she reaches an arm out, she'll be able to_ _ **feel**_ _it and the thought is so replenishing, it makes her heart swell suddenly._

 _And then it's Summer in München and she's nine again, sipping lemonade by the lake, watching her Aunt and the neighbour's children, splash around in the water, squeals of pleasure released into the sky like a flare; a strange beacon of naivety; because everything was untainted then._

 _And minutes stretch into something longer, more substantial, as the sun becomes more potent and now the room is bathed in a honeyed glow, as if she's fixed under an unshakable spotlight, so she sinks beneath the covers, allows herself to be soothed by a ubiquitous, inky nothingness._

' _Hangover that bad huh?'_

 _It takes a moment or two for the information floating around in Alex's brain to re-align so it fits, so it makes sense._

 _ **Nichols.**_

 _And then she's very aware of the blanket being roughly tugged off her and even though she's still in last night's clothes, she feels strangely naked, so much so that she yanks the covers back from her host, before realising how odd her actions must seem to a relative stranger. 'Fuck you' she mutters under her breath._

' _Well that's gratitude for you' Nicky grins, 'Some special manners you got there'_

' _Maybe don't sneak up on me then?' Alex says, snatching her glasses up from the floor, beside the couch._

' _Sneak up?'_

' _Yes' she fires back, still sore from the disturbance._

' _It's my apartment….'_

' _So?'_

 _Nichols tosses her messy mane of hair back and laughs; it's guttural and rasping and sort of infectious. 'You're something else you know?'_

 _Alex doesn't reply, but allows herself a smile, for her shoulders to relax a little._

' _You have fun last night at least?' Nicky asks. She grabs a pack of cigarettes from the coffee table and lights one, smoke unfurling towards the yellowing stain in the middle of the ceiling, as if it's somehow drawn to it._

' _It was interesting' Alex replies, swallowing hard to rid herself of the stale taste in her mouth. Her tongue feels furry, the back of her throat dry and last night suddenly comes flooding back to her in a painful jumble; clinking glasses, the haphazard scat of some Jazz and a potent brown liquor that she can almost still taste._

' _Interesting good? Interesting bad?'_

' _Just…..interesting…'_

' _Effusive….'_

' _It works for me' Alex shrugs._

' _The red head from last night certainly thought so….what was her name again?'_

' _Fuck you'_

' _Interesting name, Eastern European?'_

 _And for the first time that morning, Alex laughs, the sort of pure chuckle you get without having to think and it feels nice, automatically makes her feel a little lighter, hopeful even._

' _Are you gonna quit being such an asshole?' the brunette asks_

' _Only if you quit being such a killjoy…..' Nicky pauses, takes another long drag of the rapidly diminishing cigarette, 'deal?'_

' _Fine' Alex concedes, 'what would you like me to do?'_

' _Answer a few questions'_

 _Alex shifts in her seat, crosses and then uncrosses her arms….maybe she's got this all wrong…maybe_ _ **they've**_ _sent Nichols…and suddenly her chest feels tight, as blood pounds in her ears. 'Questions?' she manages to eventually choke out._

 _Nicky furrows her brow in confusion… 'relax…it's just a game me and my buddies play._

' _Games aren't my thing'. It's blunt, maybe more than it needs to be, but her gun is back in her apartment (ill advised in itself, but that's another story) so words are all she has right now._

' _Seriously, stretch, you need to uncoil yourself a little, remember_ _ **I**_ _was the one that stopped you being busted by the cops last night?'_

' _I can take care of myself'_

' _Message understood, loud and clear' Nicky replies. She walks to the far side of the room, cracks the already broken blind and jemmys the window a bit, before flicking the cigarette stub out onto the sidewalk below. The frosty air slips by her, a stealthy intruder and goose bumps immediately burst across Alex's skin._

' _So does this self sufficiency extend to breakfast too' Nicky grins, 'or you want some bacon and eggs?'_

 _She might be wrong about Nichols, in fact she's pretty sure she is, but right now she just needs some air….and a cigarette and to make a call. Maybe. She tosses out a few muttered words of thanks, pulls on her boots and jacket and leaves before there can be any further protest. Because no matter how much she could do with a friend right now, how good it would feel just to while away a few hours drinking bad coffee and smoking imported cigarettes, the fact of the matter is, the mission has only just begun._

…

 _She's lost count of how many blocks she's walked, only noting that she can no longer feel her extremities, but she's already spent most of the money she was advanced, so splurging on a new coat and boots seems an ill advised luxury, especially when her cupboards are barer than the trees that flank her._

 _She also decides against the phone call._

 _For now._

 _Eventually the grumbling in her stomach and her growing unease catch up with her. Fainting would be really bad form right about now. So she crosses the road to the park and takes a stroll around the Christmas market. The dimes in her pocket seem to clink in approval._

 _Her nose is immediately assaulted with the waft of warm spices: cinnamon and ginger and nutmeg. She swerves a group of school children singing about good King Wenceslas and opts for a bag of sugar cookies, chasing them down with large gulps of milk punch. The sugar immediately makes her feel better, a little calmer, until she spots M, sat on a bench across from the carol singers._

 _He smiles. Alex doesn't reciprocate. She dumps her trash and walks over, suddenly wishing she hadn't finished the whole bag of treats, as her gut begins to churn._

 _He's dressed in black. He always is. And she's hoping for news she knows he won't be here to deliver. And it's times like this she always realises, that the hope is much worse than the fear; less logical and harder to shake and yet she clings on to it harder than anything else, because without that…._

' _You look well' he lies._

 _Alex guffaws._

' _How are you enjoying New York City?'_

 _Alex turns to face him, 'I'm sure you'll tell me'. Her voice is steady, much more than she feels, but the raw white heat coursing through her (anger? Trepidation?) is somehow allowing her to do this._

' _Meaning?'_

' _Meaning, I'm pretty fucking sure you have at least_ _ **one**_ _person keeping tabs on me at any given time'._

 _He doesn't answer, just stuffs his hands deeper inside his coat pockets and Alex realises, in all the half a dozen or so times she's met M, she's never once seen his hands. The thought unnerves her more than she allows herself to admit._

' _You denying it?'_

' _No'_

' _So what's this about?'_

 _He pauses, gazed fixed on the children, who have each been handed a bag of cookies that they're excitedly tucking into to. 'You ever wish you were a kid again Alex?'_

' _What?'_

' _To be so oblivious to the world…to not know of the existence of what actually makes it spin…'_

 _She laughs, it sounds more like a screech. 'You're not here to philosophize, so lets cut the bullshit shall we?'_

 _And now it's M's turn to laugh and it makes the grey, blue of his eyes shimmer like a winter frost and Alex doesn't know why exactly, but it makes him appear less human, less tangible. 'Not one for a delicate courtship then huh?'_

' _Fuck you'_

' _But you like red heads?' There's a thin-lipped smirk as his gaze locks with hers._

' _So you've come to appraise my social life?'_

' _In a manner of speaking'_

' _Riveting, but if you don't mind..' she moves as if to leave, but it only takes one word to stop her, root her to the spot._

' _Diane'_

 _Her blood is ice. Bad news? Good news?_

' _What about her?' her voice splinters part way through the sentence._

' _She's been moved'_

' _Moved? Where?'_

' _Auschwitz'_

 _A child squeals in the distance, it carries across to her on the icy breeze, slicing through the panic she now finds herself marooned in._

' _We don't know anything else yet….but you need to keep a low profile here….if anything about_ _ **this**_ _…what you're doing should get out….then…well…'_

' _I need to know she will be safe….I need assurances….' Words are tripping out of her mouth, desperation punctuating each breath._

' _We've got our man on the inside, she's safe for now. Just focus on what you're doing here….' And suddenly he's standing and Alex's eyes are wide and confused, she's waiting for the punch-line, this can't be it?_

' _Take care Alex….and remember, be careful who you trust. I'll be in touch'._

 _She opens her mouth to speak, but her breath hitches in her throat as the pain submerges her. And she wishes she could do something to fix this immediately, to chase after M and demand that he help, but_ _ **she's**_ _the puppet here, playing by the rules of a game she cannot seem to fathom._

…

 _By the time she makes it back to her apartment, early evening shadows have begun to encroach across the bedroom. So she lies curled up in a ball, the cold metal barrel of the gun pressed against her cheek, the taste of sugar cookies on her lips and a strangled agony within her chest._

 _She prays she'll make it to morning._

…

She's offering her gingerbread cookies.

'But it's not even Christmas yet' Alex says, examining the bag. 'What shape are these supposed to be?'

Piper rolls her eyes, 'can't you guess?'

'This one looks like a frog' Alex says, holding it up to the feeble light of her rented room.

'Fuck you' Piper says, desperately trying to bite back a smile.

'Snail?'

'Funny'

'Bird?'

'Really?'

'Sure it's not a frog', she chuckles and it's warm and guttural and it makes Piper want to kiss her rather than be mad…..but she won't cave, not like this. So she snatches the paper bag away from the brunette and dumps it on the floor.

'Hey! I was gonna eat those'

'Consider it punishment'

'For?'

'Being an asshole'

'You like me being an asshole'

'Not about my cookies'

Alex shuffles closer to her on the bed, so the fleshy warmth of her thigh is pressed against Piper's. 'It's Christmas in a week and a half' she murmurs against Piper's neck, it immediately makes the blonde shift in her seat.

'Mhhhhmmm'

'You wanna go away some place?' Her voice is barely more than a whisper, her breath hot and sweet in Piper's ear…and there's a gnawing in the back of Piper's mind that says maybe tonight will be the night…

'Where' she manages to respond, although by the way that Alex's fingers are inching towards her inner thigh, she's not sure prolonged conversation is going to be on either of their minds for much longer.

'Anywhere…but here'. Her lips are trailing across Piper's jawline, her hands hitching up Piper's dress. The blonde turns her head, so their lips are separated by mere millimeters.

'Hey' she says and she smiles. And if Alex Vause thought she knew happiness before, well she's sure as hell certain it isn't anything compared to _this._

'I love you' Alex says and Piper is suddenly so still it's as if her body has chosen to freeze this moment in time, to commit it to the memory cells of her being.

And then the brunette laughs, but it's soft, making the corners of her eyes crease and betraying a delicate sort of vulnerability. 'You have to say it back'

Piper's eyes haven't left Alex's, and for a second she looks confused, like she doesn't understand why Alex would even doubt her reciprocation. Before her mouth eventually catches up with her accelerating thoughts. 'I love you too….even if you don't like my gingerbread'

And then they laugh. And it's all they need for now.

'Christmas' they whisper as the evening fades.

So they hold onto each other harder than they need, closer than seems possible and for longer than is safe.

And they both know. Maybe they always did.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Hey folks, this is sort of a filler and sort of not….maybe a wee bit self indulgent even, but I hope you like it all the same. It's set in the present.**

 **Thoughts very welcome.**

 **Happy New Year to you all.**

 **Enjoy.**

There's a walled garden, tucked behind two burnt out warehouses (Cal's discovery). He and his pal Frederick stumbled upon it last summer. They'd peeled away from a Hitlerjugend march one morning and gone exploring. But the warehouses had only held their attention for around half an hour. By which time (and following the discovery of a large stick) they had busted through any of the remaining windowpanes, at least those that hadn't already been ravaged by nature, by vandals, by life: the shattering sound giving them a strange sense of gravitas, so much so, that it quickly stops being fun.

So they waste another fifteen or so minutes fruitlessly kicking around some rubble and examining a rat corpse, poking at it's bloated stomach, inflated by the toxins of death, with a mix of disgust and morbid curiosity, before finally deciding they should toss their net a little wider, perhaps to a locale a little more _exotic._

At first they'd assumed that the buildings were shielding nothing more than dense, thickets of forest (nothing they hadn't already seen before) but it's Cal that notices the top of a black, wrought iron gate poking out through the greenery and before they know it, the pair have broken into a light jog to investigate.

It takes them a short while to hack away the reeds that appear to have wrapped themselves around the gate, like a second skin and Frederick is first to complain that it's probably going to be a waste of time, but the rusty padlock makes Cal believe it's concealing something worthwhile, or at least something that somebody cared about…. _once._

Turns out-he's wasn't wrong.

…

Alex checks her watch for the third time in as many minutes. She knows she's early, but if she's being truthful, she always is, because ever since Piper told her about this garden, it's quickly become one of her favourite places.

She likes the very idea of it, the _secret._ And for once in her life, it's not a festering, poisonous untruth, scarred by a past she cannot escape; it's just a gentle lie, the edges soft and inviting.

The mossy, earthiness of the ground always seems to rise up to meet the day and it's a heady cocktail of something _real_ and untainted. She takes large lungful's of it, as if it's medicinal, as if it can fix what's broken about her.

They've met here every Thursday since Piper told her about it two months ago. She's surprised they've not got caught, or at the very least, that not more people know about it. But Piper was right, it's as if the place has been frozen in time, some strange magical wonderland; a ghost of Christmas past.

She walks past some sprouting Winter Aconite, fingertips trailing the butter yellow of its delicate petals and she imagines what this place was like in the summer, when it was well tended, allowed to burgeon and flourish, but instead the frost tipped blades of grass make a satisfying crunch under foot.

'Hey'

Alex spins around on her heel and Piper is grinning, a childish lopsided smile and it makes Alex wish they could stay like this forever. But a fairytale is just that.

'Anyone ever told you it's rude to creep up on someone?' she says, re-adjusting her glasses.

'Says the woman breaking and entering'

'I was led astray'

'Oh really?' Piper replies, taking a few steps forward, pulling on the edges of the scarf that Alex has around her neck. 'Because I'm pretty sure, you were already in astray, I merely met you there'

'Well in that case' Alex says, 'welcome home'.

They kiss, because they can, no prying eyes, no judgment and it's the best kind, long and lingering, fingertips threading through each other's hair: breath hungry and rasping. And they're no longer bound by time, by circumstance, not here…

'We should be a _little_ careful' Piper says eventually, murmuring against Alex's lips.

Alex's fingers trail the back of the blonde's neck, twirling a strand of golden hair around her forefinger, it glistens in the crisp winter sunshine like precious, silken thread.

'You've had your hand on my ass for the last five minutes, I think it may be a little late to be careful'

'I have not!' Piper says, pulling away, staring at her hand accusatorily.

Alex lets out a low chuckle, 'I was just kidding Pipes'

'Hilarious. Breakfast?' Piper says, tapping the satchel on her shoulder.

'Isn't that what _this_ was?'

'No, I think we both need something with more sustenance'

'I dunno, I certainly feel revived'

'Pervert'

'You say it like it's a bad thing'

They both laugh.

'It really is beautiful here you know, Alex says after a few minutes, her eyes fixed on the small pond across the way, it's surface frozen, the serenity of which is occasionally disturbed by a jagged fracture.

'The overgrown grass? The weeds?'

'It's peaceful and kind of like lots of nice memories are captured here and maybe if you listen closely enough, you can hear laughter' she stops, catches Piper's eye, 'I know I know, I'm rambling like some crazy woman, just sometimes it feels like that….to me anyway…'. She tails off, eyes flitting to the ground beneath them, cheeks suddenly hot as if she's a child that's been caught doing something foolish.

Piper shakes her head, 'No, it's nice, I like that idea'. She takes Alex's hand, 'you want to stay a little longer? Maybe take a walk by the Birchwood trees?'

So they do and it could be the birdsong, or the strengthening rays of the sun, but for a short while at least, they can almost forget where they are, _what_ they are, what they may become.

But not quite.

'Daddy asked me to invite you to dinner' Piper says as they take a seat on a damp wooden bench, overlooking a stone statue of a mermaid. At some point in time the end of her tale has snapped off and the stone of her eyes has worn away to nothing more than white, making her look demonic: possessed. Something about it causes goose bumps to erupt along Alex's flesh-it always does, so she averts her gaze back to Piper.

'Is that ok?' the blonde asks, removing a flask and a brown paper bag from her satchel.

'Is there a particular reason?'

Piper shrugs, handing Alex a steaming plastic mug of coffee, 'I think you know more about his _business_ than I do….Lehbkuchen?' she says, proffering the bag of biscuits. Alex takes one, despite the fact her appetite has suddenly become muted.

'What do you mean?' she asks tentatively.

'Exactly what I said'. She pours a second cup for herself, takes a deep sip, her eyes failing to leave Alex's, almost as if she's testing her, the brunette thinks.

'There's no business' she finally says, but it comes out as more of a whisper than a statement, no certainty about it and now Alex wishes she had just changed the subject instead.

'You can trust me Alex, I hope you know that'

It's so frank that Alex isn't entirely sure what to do next. So she takes a large bite of the biscuit after all and it really is quite delicious.

'They're good' she says cramming the remainder into her mouth, as if doing so will stop any more words…. _revelations_ from spilling out.

'Thanks' Piper replies smiling, 'Polly made them'

'Did she know you were bringing them to me?'

'Why?' Piper laughs, 'worried she may have laced them with poison?'

'Something like that' Alex replies, only half joking.

'But what a way to go eh?'

'A cookie? _That's_ the best way you can think to go?'

'Well….maybe I could think of better…..'

'Just give me another biscuit Chapman'

'If you're sure it's safe'

Alex rolls her eyes. 'You know' she says, after finishing the second biscuit, 'I'm pretty sure all Molly..'

'…Polly…'

' _Polly_ needs is a little romance….might uncoil her a little'

'Are you offering?' Piper immediately chuckles at the look of horror that this suggestion elicits from Alex.

'Oh god _NO!'_

'You know what they say about protesting too much'

'It's a sign of disgust?'

'Denial'

'Pipes…'

'Yes…'

'Enough now huh?'

'But….'

' _Enough'_

'Does that apply to the cookies too?'

'I don't like her as a person, I _never_ said I didn't enjoy her baking' Alex replies, snatching the paper bag up from the bench.

Piper laughs, it seems to melt into the air around them, lightening everything.

'Hey, it's Christmas day tomorrow'

'So?'

'So….you've got to make a Christmas wish'

'Do I?'

'Yes…it's tradition'

'Is it?'

'In my family'

'I'm not in your family'

'As good as'

'Hmmm'

'What does that mean'

'It means hmmm Pipes and also…I'm eating the last cookie' She grabs it from the bag and pops it into her mouth whole.

'You _have_ to make a wish' the blonde insists and her eyes are so wide and earnest that Alex feels rotten for not playing along, even though she doesn't buy into this sort of bullshit. Because dreams and wishes are for people like Piper Chapman, not a bastard child like her.

She swallows down the final remnants of the treat with coffee, shuddering slightly as the beverage is now stone cold. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. 'Ok, fine' she sighs, 'I'll do it'

Piper immediately perks up, the blue of her eyes shimmering and resplendent.

'Close your eyes' the blonde says.

'Why?'

'Just do it ok'

'Fine' Alex replies,

'Now focus on what you want most, like _really really_ hard ok, so you can actually visualize it'

 _There's the summerhouse with Diane and her aunt, gingerbread houses and Glüwein and laughter with her cousins, presents at midnight and drunken singing at dawn…Christmases long gone, a blurry hangover…._

…and then she opens her eyes, looks straight at the blonde.

'Hey' she protests, 'you're not doing it properly'.

Alex smiles, it's soft and sad, makes the green of her eyes less vivid, diluted by memories. 'I don't think I need a wish Pipes' she takes her hand. 'Hope is all I've got'.

…

They've got a few hours before Frau Ziegler is back from visiting her sister in a neighbouring town and when Alex looks back on it, a little while later, she realises that it was Piper that led the way, her teeth tugging at Alex's bottom lip, the tenderness of her kisses, morphing into something raw, something urgent; a necessity.

The brunette tries to take back some control, ask her if she's ok, but before the words can form, can properly leave her lips, Piper's mouth is on hers, again and again, hot and urgent.

'Alex' she murmurs, over and over, as if she's speaking in tongues- as if it's a delicious new word she's just learnt.

And her fingers trace every inch of the brunette, as if they're telling their own tale, because sometimes, words are not always enough.

They drift in and out of shadows, in and out of focus; and the world juxtaposes around them, an old reality, a new reality, _their_ reality.

And Alex Vause realises; this wasn't a wish.

But it comes pretty damn close.

…

It's early on Christmas morning, Piper meets her on the steps of the church, a large brown suitcase on the floor beside her. Her cheeks have the most inviting rosy glow and Alex has to control every fibre of being, dull down the ache she feels in her bones to hold her.

'Papa was pretty upset we both missed dinner last night' she says.

'Well imagine how he'd feel if he knew why' Alex says grinning, placing her own case on the steps. 'You ready for our trip?'

Piper doesn't reply, instead, she pulls out a small package from her coat pocket. It's wrapped in pale pink paper and finished with an extravagant bow. 'Merry Christmas' she whispers.

'We're doing gifts, _now_?' she says confused.

'I just really wanted you to have this…. _'_

Alex furrows her brow.

'Just take it will you, before the SS come along and cart us both off!'

Alex laughs, 'ok ok' she says, tugging at the bow and tearing through the paper with ease. It reveals a small jewelry box. She flips it open, her heart hammering, although she's no idea why.

'Do you like it?' Piper asks, desperately trying to read the expression on the brunette's face.

Alex holds it up towards the sun. It's a silver pendant, in the shape of a wishbone.

'I know what you said…in the garden…..but sometimes…..well there's no harm in wishing, right?'

Alex smiles, looks up at the blonde, her heart swirling with a warmth she can't even begin to comprehend. But sometimes there are no answers to the questions you may have.

'No harm at all kid, no harm at all'.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Hey folks, this chapter is slightly longer than my usual, but that's because a fair bit is covered off. Just as a heads up, the next chapter is going to be my last.**

 **The structure of this chapter is as follows: first set of italics is set in the past and the Berlin section, set in the future. The rest is in the present.**

 **Let me know your thoughts.**

 **Enjoy.**

 _There's a whisper from the shadows_

 _I think your kiss may be cursed_

…

They're approaching the mouth of Salzburg station, rain pelting the window- panes, in fat apocalyptic droplets.

'I think somebody angered the gods' Piper says. Alex doesn't reply, she's staring out at the muddy, brown landscape beyond.

'You ever stood in the rain?' she finally asks.

'Intentionally?' Piper replies, shooting her a curious look.

'Well….yeah…'

The blonde shakes her head.

'It's kinda nice….makes you feel….new'

'Why do you want to feel new?'

Alex pauses, half of her face cloaked by the lengthening shadows knifing through the carriage, 'sometimes Pipes, I wish I didn't _feel_ …at all'.

…

 _There's a rupture in the sky_

 _But this storm won't pass_

…

They spend most of the evening getting drunk in the apartment; passing bottles of wine back and forth (contraband from Bill Chapman's Salzburg cellar). Piper even tries her hand at throwing back a dusty bottle of Crème de Cassis, it makes her kisses taste like candy and Alex enjoys it in an odd sort of way, because it reminds her of her first kiss, stolen amongst the shade of an orange grove, one summer vacation. The girl tasted like sherbet drops and soda. She'd laughed afterwards, as if it had been some elaborate joke and Alex never saw her again. But it's a nice memory all the same.

Piper only makes it half way through the bottle of cherry liquor, before she declares it's making her feel a little queasy. She lies back on the couch, staring up at the perfectly corniced ceiling, legs draped across Alex's lap. 'What are you thinking?' she slurs.

'I dunno Pipes'.

And it isn't a lie, because honestly, Alex can't remember a time when her mind settled on _one_ thing long enough to truly consider it _thinking._ These days, her brain is full of a series of images that flit through her sub conscious periodically, faded at the edges like a dusty Polaroid- hazier through the lens of time. So she kisses the tip of Piper's nose instead, hoping that it will suffice, in lieu of a proper answer.

But drunk Piper is persistent ( _tell me….tell meeee)_ so Alex concedes, says something more palatable.

'I'm thinking…..you may have drunk a little too much of Papa Chapman's finest booze'. She lets out a low chuckle, but it's jagged and forced, sitting heavily between them; an invisible barrier to what she really wants to say, what they _should_ discuss.

But it works well enough (for now).

Piper leaves the room to get water, returns seconds later insisting that she needs a cigarette.

'You don't smoke Pipes' Alex says grinning.

'Who says I don't?'

'Well do you?'

'I could…'

'You _could_ do a lot of things' Alex laughs. She holds up the empty bottle beside her. 'We're out of wine. How about I grab some more from the cellar, _properly_ deplete Chapman senior's stock.'

Piper laughs, the genuine kind that makes Alex's gut feel warm. Makes her _forget._

'In my absence, you can decide if you _do_ actually smoke or not, deal?' She offers her hand to seal the agreement. Piper takes it, holds it longer than is strictly necessary and the brunette finds herself doing what she always does when Piper touches her, when she's near, when she's holding her; commits it solidly to memory. Hungrily holds every detail captive, because every time could be the last, so she needs to make it count.

'You ok?' Piper finally asks. Her words are soft, fuzzy around the edges, but the last threads of her sobriety still notice the slight melancholy in Alex's eyes: a shimmer of regret, a stab of hope.

'Yeah' she says freeing her hand, the moment splintering sharply. 'Just could do with another drink, I'll be back in a minute' she says disappearing through the door and out towards the basement steps.

…

She's careful on her descent into the chasm of the cellar. The stone is worn, making it slippery underfoot and the smell of damp prevalent. 'Can't just keep a case of bottles in the kitchen like a normal person huh Bill?' she mumbles to herself, brushing her hand against the feathery strands of a disturbed cobweb 'or hire a fucking cleaner' she hisses, wiping the hand on her sweater hem, before finally hitting the light switch.

She flicks it on and it bathes the room in an eerie, jaundiced glow, illuminating racks upon racks of grimy bottles. Alex's grabs two at random, not wanting to hang around, spend more time imagining what lurks in the corners that the light can't quite reach, that her eyes can't quite bring into focus. And for a second, she imagines long, ice-cold fingers wrapping themselves around her throat.

 _Can you keep a secret?_

And it feels strangely safe, like she's home.

…

She's uncorking one of the bottles in the kitchen, clumsily, so it snaps, stranded in the neck of the vessel. 'Fuck!'

'Al' the blonde calls, she sounds close by, strangely urgent, although the brunette doesn't consider it for too long, occupied with prizing the remainder of the cork from where it's trapped in limbo, jamming a knife into it, firmer than she should.

'Alex!'

The urgency is unmistakable this time and it irritates her, because she's trying to concentrate, force the blade down the side of the bottle, slide it around the cork, but it's stuck fast and quite frankly she just want to smash the whole fucking thing.

'Al'.

She's near, Alex can feel Piper's breath on her neck. But the urgency is gone, replaced by something else, something Alex can't _quite_ fathom.

'I found the letter….the one from Diane'.

And just like that, the knife slips.

And so does the veil.

…

Piper immediately launches into a jumbled explanation of how she came across the letter. She's still a little drunk, so her words almost tumble into one another; no pauses, a crazy freight train of apologies ( _I'm sorry, I was just looking for cigarettes in your coat pocket, I'm sorry, it fell out, I'm sorry I wasn't prying, I'm sorry….i'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorry)_ a cacophony of regret and confusion, laced with an undercurrent of hurt.

'Auschwitz' the blonde chokes out. And _that_ elicits a white, hot, anger from Alex, makes her skull pound harder than anything else- _even_ the invasion of her privacy, because it makes it about _Piper_ , as if she is the one that needs to be consoled, comforted for the shock.

But Alex is scared, petrified that if she speaks, the truth, the _entirety_ of it will be released. A round of heavy artillery that she's not sure either of them would survive. So instead she turns away from Piper, runs her cut hand under the tap, blasts the hot water so steam billows up from the sink unforgivingly, so the wound stings so much it's pulsating: raw and angry.

And the pain is a good distraction, she can blame it for the stinging of her eyes and the thick, wet sob trapped in throat….

…rather than the truth.

That Piper Chapman pulled on the _one_ thread that can't be re-stitched. And all Alex can do is stand in silence, watch the crimson whirlpool disappear down the plughole and try and keep a hold of her sanity.

…

She's holding a cup of tea in her good hand (the other, sloppily bandaged with a dishcloth) but it's more brandy than anything and it's deliciously numbing, so much so, it almost feels safe to breath again.

Piper sits across the kitchen counter from her, occasionally stealing glances when she thinks Alex's isn't looking, watery blue eyes trying to think of a way to make this ok again, to try and process the handful of facts that have just presented themselves.

'You want some more?' she finally says, pointing to Alex's half empty cup. Her voice is gentle, a delicate quiver and although it's a question about something innocuous, it manages to convey something much more; she's scared.

Alex shakes her head, still not trusting herself to speak, to hold in the things that she knows she needs to-for now.

'I guess we should talk about it?' Piper offers and although it's presented as a question, it's clear that Alex doesn't have much choice in the matter.

The brunette scoffs, 'I thought snooping was more your thing?'

She knows that's not true, even before she's said the words, but right now, she wants Piper to feel hurt the way she is and she knows that's irrational, that she's lashing out at the wrong person, but she's sick of bottling up her emotions, diluting them until she's convinced herself they don't exist, so she'll allow herself to revel in this a little while, someone else's discomfort, another persons upset.

And of course, it works, why wouldn't it? But contrary to what she had hoped, Alex finds herself feeling worse, pain magnified and she knows why _that_ is too and that frustrates her even more. 'Fucks sake!' she finally spits, snapping, flinging the cup across the kitchen, it makes a sickening crack against a cupboard door, before smashing into pieces on the ground, murky liquid smattering the pristine white of the tiles.

'Alex…' Piper breathes, as if it's an answer to a question. She reaches out, long slender fingers seeking something familiar, but Alex scrambles up from the stool, pacing the kitchen like some caged beast.

'You can't fix _this_ Piper, cute apologies and hand holding, you just can't fucking fix this!'

'I get that you're mad….'

'You get that I'm mad?' She's stopped pacing now, but her heart is hammering so fast, she can feel the reverberations in her throat and so the words come out stifled, as if each one is slowly suffocating her.

'We just need to talk, I want to understand'

'There's nothing to understand Piper, _that's_ the fucking point.'

'But your mother…she's in a camp…why?' She hadn't meant for the question to slip out the way it has, but ever since she saw the letter, it's the only thing that's be on her mind.

 _Konzentrationslager Auschwitz_

The words emblazoned in blue, on the yellowing leaf. It's official looking paper, the stamp tells her that much, but its flimsy and cheap: signifying something temporary. The thought makes her gut twist sharply.

'I just want to understand' she adds, but the words don't feel solid enough, almost as if someone else is saying them.

Alex snatches up the bottle of brandy from the counter-top and takes a deep swig, wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. Piper's still regarding her closely; _trepidation? Pain? Fear?_ The latter delivers with it a small jolt of guilt. She chases it away with several more pulls on the booze, past the point of noticing the searing trail it should leave as she glugs it down, instead enjoying the way it's making all of this more bearable, a fuggy cloud of warmth gradually enveloping her.

'You want to know why Piper?' she finally says.

'Yes' comes the slightly relieved response.

The reply is simple-solemn, not what the blonde was expecting.

'Because she wanted to tell the truth'

…

 _When M first meets with Alex, she's been in New York City 18 months, been Alex_ _ **Vause**_ _for the same length of time._

 _She's held a post as an adviser to the United States Army Air force for around a year, things are going as well as can be expected. So when a man appears outside the café she's been sitting in for an hour, on her first day of leave for the month and casually refers to her as_ _ **Fräulein Fischer**_ _, in a thick mid-west accent, she knows that she can't just ignore him._

 _So she doesn't._

…

' _We can help you….if you agree to help_ _ **us'.**_

 _There's a smile, but Alex knows it's perfunctory, because for people like M, this is business as usual._

' _What's in it for me?' she asks, watching a leaf free itself from a branch and begin its inevitable descent to the damp ground._

 _M laughs, it's sardonic and unbridled. 'Perhaps I've not made myself very clear, we_ _ **know**_ _what you're doing here, if you refuse to help us, to co-operate, it's only a matter of time before your superiors find out, before you become surplus to_ _ **their**_ _requirements and then what do you think will happen to your mother?'_

 _The reference to her mother makes Alex flinch, makes her right hand curl up into a tight fist. But the message is clear; there is_ _ **no**_ _choice._

' _And what if they find out about this? How can you assure me they won't?'_

' _Because you're too important for us to let that happen'_

 _Alex scoffs. 'I'm as important to you as I am to them, depending on the day, depending on the hour, I'm not a fucking hobby' she says through gritted teeth. But anger is futile, arguing irrational, because her mother's life is at stake and that's the only thing that matters._

' _You have my word Ms. Fischer'_

' _It's_ _ **Vause**_ _' she hisses, eyes scanning the park around them._

 _M smiles 'worried the trees have eyes?'_

' _And ears'_

' _Don't worry, we'll take care of all of that, you just focus on the job at hand, you're working for us now, the American war effort'. He re-adjusts the scarf around his neck. 'I'll be in touch again, with the information you need to forward on to your superiors'._

 _Alex could ask a time, a date, a day, but she knows too well that people such as M work to their own schedule, their own_ _ **rules.**_

 _And without a further word, he's gone, leaving Alex to re-align her reality with that she knew mere minutes ago._

 _It's a brave new world- one that she has no desire to be part of._

…

As explanations go, the one she offers Piper regarding Diane's incarceration is the best she can muster in the circumstances. It physically hurts to explain it in _any_ detail, creates a horrid ache that stretches across her chest. But Piper doesn't press her, just gently squeezes Alex's uninjured hand from time to time, but more than that, she just allows her to speak. And when she's done, the brunette feels surprisingly brighter, only carrying the burden of half a lie now. One that she _cannot_ afford to let slip, in _any_ circumstance.

And when there are no words left, when the first rays of a pinkish orange dawn begin to warm their bones, they make love, slowly, as if they're unraveling each other, right down to the core, as if they're only just beginning to understand _this._

And then morning arrives.

…

 _ **Whispers in Berlin**_

 _They're tangled in a mess of sheets and each other, unsaid words and regrets and that's how they greet the new day. Piper mumbles 'morning' against the brunette's jaw. Alex turns to kiss her. 'Morning breath' the blonde insists, trying to wriggle from Alex's grip, dramatic and false, because she's no intention of freeing herself, not one bit._

 _And they stay like that for a little while, cocooned in a false hope, or perhaps the dawn of a new one, neither of them is quite sure._

' _Daddy's expecting me back this evening' Piper says, her eyes searching Alex's for words to soothe, to make the anxiety of the promised separation more bearable. They should be used to it by now, but saying goodbye always feels as raw as the first time, maybe worse in some ways, as feelings become firmer, more rooted._

 _And the possibility of a return visit is never quite certain._

 _But Piper consoles herself with the fact that work has sent Alex here, although she understands she's not permitted to say quite what._

' _You'd better not miss your train then' Alex replies. She turns away from the blonde, grabs her glasses from the nightstand, tries to ignore the thoughts of Piper's fiancé from bubbling up to the surface, capsizing the feelings she's just about managing to keep in check._

' _I'll be back soon' Piper whispers, arms snaking around the brunette's waist. But it's too late now, the mood has shifted and her touch feels tainted, because Alex isn't sure if Piper truly belongs to her any more, or if she ever really did._

 _But the blue eyes say different, the shimmer of them promises it all and she knows she's torturing herself with these thoughts, a slow suffocating sort of pain, but Alex just cannot let go….not like this._

 _And there's a knock at the door, it makes them both freeze. Alex is to her feet quickly, scrabbling in the drawer of the nightstand for her gun._

' _Al…?' Piper says, her eyes flicking frantically back from Alex and to the gun again. But Alex presses a finger to her own lips, pulls on some pants and tucks the gun into the back of them, fingers of her left hand still clasped firmly around the trigger._

 _Her legs are less steady than she would like, adrenalin propelling her forward. She asks who it is, a small voice from the other side of the door tells her it's a telegram for Fräulein Vause. She relaxes enough to remove her hand from the trigger, but she leaves the gun where it is._

 _It_ _ **is**_ _just a telegram._

 _But the danger remains imminent. It's from Bill Chapman._

' _Call me.' it says._

…

 _She tells Piper it was incorrectly addressed, makes an excuse about needing to get milk and pastries for breakfast, not making eye contact the whole time. And the words float about around them, failing to settle like they should._

 _Because it's yet more deceit._

 _The nearest phone booth is a few blocks away and the whole walk over Alex is thinking the worst, blood ablaze with fear, mind a whir with worst-case scenarios. And when she finally hears Bill Chapman's voice, her fears are not abated._

' _I know about you and Piper. You didn't listen to my warning.' He says, firm and frank._

 _And Alex knows she's going to pay the price. She's certain of that._

 _She's just not sure, how heavy it will be._


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Hello folks, as promised, here is the finale. I just wanted to thank everyone that read and commented and followed this story. I understood when I started writing this, that it was a bit leftfield for Vauseman, but I've enjoyed the challenge immensely and I hope you have too.**

 **Anyway, here's the conclusion to this story. Everything is in the present, except for the London part, which is set some time into the future….over and out….**

 _Her dreams are different lately. They smell of dried blood._

…

She wakes with a start, a blazing ache in her muscles, the bed-coffin cold. Her fingers stretch out, reaching for the warmth of flesh, the validity of bone, but there are shadows where Piper should be and silence that her breath should grace.

 _Witching hour dread._

She takes a whiskey: neat- savors the sting, imagines what it would feel like to toast Piper on her wedding day, finds herself raising her glass.

 _To the happy couple._

And she's laughing she _thinks_ , but it's shuddery and wet and it hurts her chest. So she presses the heels of her hands into her eyes, forcing everything into darkness, because if she can't see it, it can't be real, if she can't touch it, it doesn't exist.

But she cannot un-think it, cannot undo it cannot unpick what's been stitched between them.

So she takes more liquor, watches the moon cast pretty refractions through her window.

And the still, suddenly becomes ok, the silence, marginally bearable. Because tomorrow she knows what she has to do.

She's taking the first train back to Berlin.

…

It's late…or early (depending on how you look at it) and Alex knows she's taking a huge risk by calling the Chapman household at 3am, but there's a need that she cannot override and a dread that she cannot shake. Somewhere in the back of her mind Piper has come to the realisation that _this_ won't work, that Alex isn't quite worth the effort. And she can convince herself of this, maybe even kid herself it's for the best….. _almost._

'Hello?

A solitary word, that make Alex want to scream, because it's so mundane and yet confirms everything she needs to know; she's in far too deep.

'Piper…you picked up'. It's desperate and breathless and relief and excitement all wrapped into one.

'Alex? What's wrong, are you ok? Has something happened…with…Diane?'

'Meet me later on…. I'll be back in Berlin'

'What…why?'

'7pm, by the church…'

'7pm?'

But the line is dead.

…

There's enough money for a couple of ferry tickets and surplus for a few months in hostels or cheap bed and breakfasts.

She's getting good at lying to her parents and it comes worryingly naturally to her- the ebb and flow of truth versus fiction.

Bill calls Carol 'careless' when another set of diamond earrings goes missing, insists women can't be trusted, when she misplaces cash for groceries. But it's always glossed over with a sigh, a tired roll of the eyes- a slight shake of the head.

Because there's bigger fish to fry, there _always_ is.

And Carol Chapman moves from one gin induced haze to another, as each ubiquitous day merges into the next. And weeks drift into months, the dinner parties more raucous, the cocktail dresses more extravagant, but she never can quite recollect where she last placed her purse and more than that: when she even really gave a damn.

…

Alex hasn't slept, her mind running images like some crazy cinema reel, gathering pace until they're nothing more than an inky smudge across the canvas of her psyche. And the spool keeps spinning like a Dreidel.

 _I am made from lead._

She'd called Huber at the ministry as soon as the clock hit 09:00, but she's told he's in a meeting, won't be free for another hour, does she want a call back? She says yes, provides the number for the phone booth and then doesn't move until she can hear the rattle of the bell.

She's already decided she won't take no for an answer. It's been months since she last heard from Diane and her letters are becoming shorter and more perfunctory. This shouldn't alarm Alex in itself, after all, she's guessing that each piece of post is vetted for content before it's deemed suitable to be released outside of the compound. But maybe that's it, maybe there's nothing left for her to write that prying eyes won't seize. The thought rises and then sinks to the pit of her stomach.

And there it is, the shrill scream of the phone. She leaps upon the receiver like she's worried it will escape and she manages little more than a strangled hello, her practiced verse suddenly disappeared; a cruel magic trick.

'Ms. Vause?'

It's _him_.

'Yes'

'You shouldn't have called, a public phone booth isn't the place for these sorts of discussions. Come and see me at my office tomorrow morning.'

'I'm pulling out of the mission'

 _Silence_

She's holding her breath, wondering if she played her hand too soon, but he's still on the other end of line…waiting….'

'I'm out' she repeats, firmer this time, hoping to elicit a reaction.

'So you've said, but I'm not sure that's wise…not when we have some interesting information…about your mother….'

And suddenly her breath is ragged, her heart rapping on the door of its prison.

'What information…?'

'Tomorrow 09:00, we'll discuss more…'

'Please…..' she hates using this word, practically hisses it, because they don't deserve pleasantries, _manners._ But she knows she can't survive another day like this, the thought sends her a little sick.

'Tomorrow' he repeats, firmer, no room for maneuver.

Alex presses her forehead against the glass of the booth door, watching her breath form fuggy shapes, every exhale leaving a cloud of despair.

'And ….don't _ever_ telephone me again. The consequences _could_ be quite dire'.

And there's a click and the aching silence of a dead line. She hangs up the receiver, collapses on the floor, head held in her hands. She's not sure what she's just done.

…

Piper's almost out of the door, bag in hand, crammed full of all the money she's accumulated (evidence for Alex) because today is the day she's coming clean.

But her father stops her, just short of the snap of cool air on her face, closes the door, re-affirming the barrier between her and freedom.

The question is simple, where is she going? Whom with? The response is less so. She mumbles something about meeting Polly for dinner. Bill pauses, his eyes narrowed.

'You know honey, your mother and I have invested an awful lot in this wedding, in _your_ future.

Piper's eyes are ice.

'I know' she says, fingers clasped firmly around the buckle of her satchel, around the contents of her new life.

'Just be careful' he continues, eyes still fixed on his daughter.

'I always am' comes the blunt response. She supposes she should play nice, not make any waves for the time being, but she's so sick of having to live for someone else's happiness, for other people's plans and the entirety of it is so stifling, she feels like she can barely breathe.

'Your friendship with Alex Vause…'

'Yes?' her stomach suddenly feels hollow.

'It's to be terminated'

'What?!' she rounds on him, drops her bag to the floor, fists clenched tightly to her sides.

'Stay away from her Piper, or….well this not a child's games'.

'I'm not a fucking child!'

And what was meant as a statement escapes as a strangled scream and it's hot and irritated and laced with rage.

'If you saw her file Piper, you'd understand what I was saying…'

'Her file?'

'I've warned you…' he turns away, grabbing his coat from the stand in the hallway. 'The driver will be here for me shortly, I have an important conference to attend…'

She's pretty sure he shouldn't have said that, made mention of a _file,_ like it's some abstract weapon. In fact she _knows_ that he shouldn't have and that's not a good thing, because if it's no longer important to keep Alex's secrets intact, it means _she's_ no longer important to them.

She snatches her bag back up from the floor, flings the door open and she's running. She's not entirely sure if it's from something she wants to escape, or towards something she needs to save. Either way, she doesn't stop until she hits the church square and Alex Vause is firmly within her sights.

…

By the time she makes her way over to Alex, her breathing is something akin to normal, but her brain is screaming in confusion. 'You're here, you're ok' she mutters, pulling Alex into a rough hug.

'Piper, what the fuck?' Alex says, almost shrugging her off. The last thing she needs is for any attention to be drawn to them, especially not after her earlier conversation with Huber.

'We can hug can't we? For Christ's sakes Alex!' And all of a sudden Piper's anger is spitting and fizzing at the brunette, because she's doing this for them, uprooting every part of her existence up until this point for _this._ And she doesn't know what she's expecting, not even gratitude really, just some fucking acknowledgment that this is hard for her too, especially when there's so much that's being kept from her, even now.

'I'm sorry'. Her voice is honey, almost a purr. She pulls Piper into an alleyway down the side of the Church, the only light from the speckle of rainbow patterns, filtering through the stained glass windows. 'I just can't deal with today….,,' she continues.

Her face is yellow, soft and yearning.

'What about _me_ Alex?!' Piper's eyes are wide, glassy with pain, face cast in orange and red, hurt and recriminations.

'This _includes_ you Piper, I'm trying to keep you safe? Why don't you get that?'

'So tell me the truth, tell me exactly what's going on'

There's silence, as purple and blue drift around them.

'Alex…I _need_ to know?'

The brunette scoffs, 'so you can decide whether I'm a better bet than your fiancé?'

Piper's head rocks back, as if she's been dealt a taut slap. In her mind, the explanation seems rational, it always has, but in her heart…the justification is less easy and the words will not come, will not allow themselves to form on her lips.

And now Alex is gold, bathed in a soft halo like glow. 'I just can't do this any more Pipes' and she slides to the ground, almost crumples in two.

Paper mache promises: all too easy to destroy.

'Please don't make this harder….just go….'

Her sobs are stifled, the sounds of an injured animal and really Piper has no words to make this ok, because Alex is right.

'You need to leave' she warns the brunette, forcing out the words whilst she's still able.

Alex shakes her head, not looking up.

'I can't, not just yet'

Piper crouches down, seeks her out in the shadows, holds her face like it's the only thing with any meaning any more. 'You're in danger, you need to leave, _tonight_ promise me Alex…please… _'._

 _'_ What...danger?!'. Her voice is shrill, a wounded animal rounding on its captor.

'I just _know_ something is wrong, I can't really explain it, not yet...and if you're in danger, then Diane is too..'

She's said the magic word... _Diane._ And so it gets Alex to sit up a little, take note, understand that this isn't solely about her, if it ever really was.

'You have to leave... _tonight_ ', she repeats, but the tenderness of her tone is gone, replaced with something else and it takes Alex a little while to recognise it; raw fear.

Piper kisses her gently, it's salty and wet and when she finally pulls away, Alex seems calmer, she understands. 'I promise' she manages to reply, her voice shattering around the word.

'Goodbye' Piper whispers into the charcoal shadows, as she turns to leave.

And Alex is blue, green and pink, yellow and red. She is all at once _every_ colour.

…

She takes a taxi home, her mind unable to settle, because Alex isn't safe, not just yet.

Her mother advises Piper that she's feeling unwell and she's taking to her bed. The blonde barely raises her eyes from the bible she's pretending to read. Stuck on the same paragraph for the last five minutes.

 _Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord from now on. "Yes" says the spirit, "they will rest from their labor, for their deeds will follow them"_

She needs to find the file.

…

The filing cabinet in the study is locked and Piper has no idea of where the key is. She supposes that her father could carry it with him, although that seems risky in itself, should he misplace it. So it _must_ be here somewhere.

She darts into the hall, her mother's bedroom door is firmly closed and there's still no sign of either Danny or Cal. She re-enters the study, eyes scanning the walls; pictures of each of the Chapman children, rows of Bill's medals and achievements and a standard issue picture of the Führer…..

'Fuck!' she didn't think this through. She glares back up at the picture, seething, trying to override the overwhelming urge to set fire to it and then it suddenly comes to her. She reaches up, unhooks it from the wall and flips it over.

Her prize awaits her in all it's shining glory.

The key to the cabinet, taped to the back of the picture frame.

…

There are more files than she anticipated, thick brown cardboard, sandwiching together various collections of paperwork. None of it is ordered. Some of it relates to Bill's own affairs, memorandums from various meetings, inventories and invoices. Other documents concern his staff, appraisals of their performance, indiscretions and suchlike.

And then she stops dead, can hear the gentle hum of a car shuddering to a halt. He's back. She knows his nightly ritual, drink in his study to unwind and then bed. She's got a handful of minutes left at best.

'Shit!' she hisses, scrabbling up and jamming various documents back into the bundle of files she's collected. She's no time to put them back exactly as she found them. Her father cannot know what she's doing, cannot risk him being tipped off about Alex's escape. She'll have to try again tomorrow. Her stomach coils at the thought it might be too late.

She finally jams the drawer shut, fingers clammy around the key as she hears the click of the lock, before replacing it back behind the picture.

She can hear her father closer now, fumbling about in the doorway downstairs, muttering to himself, probably drunk. The door creaks open, he's inside and begins a heavy-footed ascent up the stairs.

Piper gives the room a once over, blood pounding in her ears as she spots a stray piece of paper under the desk.

He's near the top step now, she can hear his labored breath, the study is just opposite.

She grabs the piece of paper and stuffs it in the pocket of her pinafore, almost crashing straight into Bill as she tries to exit.

'Piper?' he says, swaying slightly on his feet.

'I was looking for some ink for my pen daddy, mine ran out'

And she swears her voice must falter, that he can smell the lie before it's even fully left her mouth, but if he does he doesn't acknowledge it, just waves her out and tells her to go to bed.

She almost stumbles into her room, taking large lungful's of air before she feels properly able to analyse what just happened. But she's safe and so is Alex, _for now._

And then she remembers the rogue piece of paper and curiosity consumes her. So she takes it over to the desk, smoothing out the creases and reads it under the pitiful glow of her lamp.

There are two words, bold and black and proud, at the very top of the sheet and they jab at her painfully.

 _Death Certificate_

Her breath hitches in her throat.

 _Diane Vause_

 _Cause of death- Tuberculosis_

 _Location- Auschwitz_

 _Spouse- Unknown_

The room begins to swim, dark shapes drifting into one another and all she can see is Alex's smile, all she can hear is Alex's laugh, all she can _feel_ is her embrace.

She traces her fingers over the words, smudging them into a blur. But it's too late, her eyes cannot un-see and then further down, she spots it, the thing that makes all the reality she knows, blow up around her.

The date of death: eighteen months ago.

And suddenly, the silence is so loud she can't think.

She's going to be sick.

…

Her bag's been packed for the last half an hour, but she can't move. She's thinking about what Huber said. But the timing of it feels off, revealing it _after_ she announced she was leaving.

And then Piper's warning…

She squeezes her eyes shut tight, even her name causes a laceration to soul. Her dreams now feel hollow, she's been a fool all along, with Huber and Bill and ….Piper. And she's no closer to knowing the truth about her mother than she was a year, two years ago.

She stares at the ferry ticket in her hand, she can make her way back to New York City somehow, wait for M to find her…he always does. And she consoles herself with the fact that _they_ still need her, that she's a valuable commodity, that they can protect her from whatever danger it is that Piper is concerned about.

But then there's a knock at the door. Her fingers immediately seek out the gun under the mattress of her bed, the metal feels cool against her skin and she feels oddly calm, because maybe it was always meant to come down to this?

The Frau hasn't returned from visiting her sister and whoever it is must know this. The knock becomes one, then two, then three until they're raining blows on the door; a strange sort of rumble.

She makes her way down the staircase, her heart rapping the cage of her chest, keeping to the shadows cast by the new moon. She flicks the latch, the door swings open and she immediately slides in behind it. The figure bursts in, her finger trembles on the trigger…..this is it…..but then they stop, spin around and Alex's eyes lock straight with another pair; vivid blue.

It's Piper Chapman and she looks like she's seen a ghost.

…

It's been some minutes since Piper handed her the death certificate, minutes that bleed into a silence. But Alex won't remove her eyes from the piece of paper, her eyes running over the same information over and over again.

'How do you know it's real?' Her voice is thick and wet and Piper figures she's already guessed it is, but she answers anyway.

'It was in my father's cabinet…it's always locked….he only keeps very private documents in there…for work…'

'She's dead' Alex says and then again, louder as if she's trying to get used to the idea, as if repeating it will make it easier to fathom, but it doesn't. Diane's voice drifts through the planes of her mind, an echo of a happiness that she'll never know again.

And there was Alex's last birthday together, when they danced to records and drank home made damson wine, her graduation from flight school, her mother's smile proud and strong as she applauded her achievement. Sunday picnics and winters with her Aunt.

And then she sinks to her knees, sobbing into the piece of paper that's ruptured her life, howling like something primal into the still of the night.

Because the game is over, when it had never really begun.

...

They knew all along, Huber and Bill, that much is clear and it's the thing that offers her a jolt of sobriety. The gun lies next to her on the floor, Piper pressed into her side, offering words to soothe as if they're some sort of incantation.

But the gun….

….how it would feel to put a bullet through Bill Chapman's head, the smatter of blood as his skull is blown to pieces….and she could hide out until tomorrow morning, wait for Huber and plaster his brains all over his expensive mahogany desk, finish him off too….

'I've bought my things' she says softly. _Piper._

And so the scenarios change, melt away around them. Because each one of those things would put Piper in danger too and Alex is damn well sure she'd never forgive herself for that.

' _Your_ things?' she says confused, her mind still awash with Diane.

And so Piper tells her about the money, of her plan and pulls out an envelope. She hands it to Alex. 'A fresh start' she says. It's two ferry tickets to London.

'Leaves tomorrow morning, I love you' she whispers, kissing Alex's cheek, 'I love you' she repeats, placing her lips on each of the brunettes eye lids, 'I love you' she says, as her mouth find Alex's own.

And Alex doesn't need to reply, because her touch says it all.

They're leaving for London.

…

 _ **London**_

 _Alex sometimes finds herself wondering if M knew too and she finally concludes that he must have, that he owed no more loyalty to her than Huber and co. And some days it stings more than others, but she's learnt to push past it, so it doesn't swallow her whole._

 _They had their own small service for her mother, Piper and her. In a quiet corner of a park, under a tree Alex knows she would have liked. They visit it often, especially on days when she feels like she's losing control, like the last threads of sanity are escaping her._

 _They've become skilled at lying, she and Piper. They've had to be, but never to each other, that's a promise they've vowed to keep._

 _And some days are lonely and others not so much. They've both found work, Piper teaches English to small children, whilst Alex tends gardens. It's a gentle life, so far removed from everything they both once knew and that feels nice in a way, replenishing. Although they still look over their shoulders, sometimes for longer than they need. Maybe it will always be that way._

 _She thinks about sending a letter to Nicky once in a while, but she figures she may have moved on. She still might do it some day. Maybe._

 _And then there's Bill Chapman. They made a pact never to mention him, so they don't, but occasionally Alex finds herself doing a double take, if she spots a man who could be him and then the anger is back raw and pounding._

 _But it's summertime in London and they're lying stretched out under the shade of an oak tree and they could be anywhere, or somewhere, but instead they're here, with each other._

 _And for now, they figure, that's all that counts._

 _The sky is the deepest blue she's ever seen today._

 _The start of something new._


End file.
